The Drugs Don't Work
by xX-Misty
Summary: Sequel to Perfect Day; In the aftermath of the darkest night, Fenchurch East is struggling. Gene's confidence is waning, Alex's trust in him destroyed and the building reduced to rubble. Can the team pull themselves together to deal with a case that brings them squarely up against Fenchurch West where the balance of power is shifting in a worrying way?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"And have you been having any difficulty sleeping, Alex?"

"I'm taking so many painkillers that I sound like a set of bloody maracas."

"I'm talking about non-medicated sleep."

"I'd need a non-medicated night to know."

"Do you feel anxious about the idea of going to sleep without medication? The hospital said that you had nightmares."

"I've had lots of nightmares in my life. Once I had a nightmare that Simon was going around posting pictures of Kryten through everyone's letterboxes. I woke up screaming from that, too."

"Alex, I sense you're being defensive."

"Dear god, whatever gave you that idea?"

"I know that you would rather not be here –"

"Finally a suggestion I can agree with."

"But you understand that your superintendent has insisted that you and your colleagues attend these sessions."

"Yes, I'm well aware of his request."

"You've all been through a very traumatic experience. Some more than most."

"You don't need to hide behind words. _Or_ your clipboard. We both know who you mean and what you are insinuating."

"You went through a very traumatic experience and a serious sexual assault.

"Pointing that out to me isn't going to make me want to discuss it with a complete stranger."

"Is that why you refused the advice about sexually transmitted diseases?"

"That's a very personal question and I'd prefer not to answer."

"It would help me a lot if you would decide to answer at least _some_ of my questions."

"Ask me one worth answering and I'll answer it."

"Alex, I know that _you_ know what you are doing right now. I know you are a psychologist too –"

"Well what do you know, a second thing we can agree on."

"If you wanted to you could just tell me what you think I want to hear…"

Alex stared at her hands. That was one she didn't have a response to.

"…But you're not doing that. You're being defensive and rude and making it quite clear that something isn't right..."

Alex took in her breath and listened to herself exhaling. It was preferable to listening to the psychologist.

"…So that tells me that on some level you'd like to talk more. Perhaps not now… but soon."

Alex blinked.

"Now I'm starting to understand why my patients hated me so much," she mumbled.

The psychologist looked at her seriously.

"You _do_ need to talk, Alex. What you've been through is more than anyone should ever have to deal worth and if you don't face it then it will begin to eat you up inside. Perhaps if you won't speak to me there's someone else you would rather talk to?"

Alex closed her eyes.

"I have no one to talk to," she whispered.

"What about your fiancé?"

"What fiancé?"

"Your fiancé… Gene?"

Alex stared dead ahead.

"I don't have a fiancé," she said flatly.

"You filled him out as next of kin," the psychologist reminded her but Alex simply swallowed.

"I am _not_," she began flatly, "getting married. And I do not have a fiancé." She closed her eyes. "Not any more."

~xXx~

"_Two decisions._ Two bloody decisions I had to make. And I managed to get them both deep in the department of _fuck-ed up-edness."_

"Both situations were out of your hands, Gene."

"That's DCI Hunt to you."

"DCI Hunt. Although you might find it easier to open up if you relax. You're not in your office now."

"That's because me office is in seven million pieces, and the only thing I'm likely to _open up_ is me gob to finish yer complimentary beverage before it goes stone cold."

"I see. And have you ever spoken to anyone about this latte compulsion before?"

"Lay off the latte, Headcase."

The psychologist sighed internally.

"Alright. I'll leave the lattes alone."

"Good." Gene lifted the large cup and took a disgusting, gurgling slurp from it that made him sound as though he was trying to use it to swill out the bad taste that the session had left in his mouth. He gulped half of the liquid down and then closed his eyes. He hated to admit it – fuck, he hated to admit it, but there was something on his mind. "Two decisions, Headcase," he said, taking secret delight in the psychologists' clear annoyance at being called _Headcase_, "and they both turned out to be smooth moves from the Gene Genie, didn't they? Had a choice. Could have saved either of them. Saved me better half and Simon got a building falling on his head. Then I had another choice – wait with him or escort me long-suffering other half to hospital." He listed his latte, wishing the psychologist would look away long enough for him to slip something alcoholic inside the cup, "and what happens? Bloody four-eyed gorilla gets his filthy paws all over her."

"You said yourself you only had time to save one of them from the building," the psychologist pointed out.

"I'm supposed to be the Manc Lion. When did yer last see the head o' the pride in a stew over which lump o' meat to eat first? When was the last time you saw a lion sitting down to question his morality in gobbling down a flaming gazelle?" the psychologist had met Gene in the past once or twice, usually after counselling traumatised recruits who had developed inexplicable phobias of filing cabinets. But this didn't seem like the same man. His posture was completely different; wrong even. Instead of sitting defiantly he sat defensively; his body hunched, arms folded and with as many barriers as he could possibly put between them. Even on the table he'd lined up his flask, three packets of chewing gum and stood up his Latte Land loyalty card like a wall. His accent had gone up three notches as though it had come fully back as a security blanket, another thing to hide behind, and his hair hung forward although it wasn't long enough to hide his eyes the way he wanted.

"You make hundreds of decisions every day…"

"_Thousands_."

"Alright, _Thousands_. You cannot tell me every single one is right, or that they don't come without consequence."

"The consequences don't usually mean I lose me flipping fiancée though."

"But you didn't; she is safe and sound now."

"Don't mean physically."

"What do you mean then?"

Gene shrugged like a sulking child.

"Won't look at me. Won't talk to me. Blames me for everything. Can see it in her eyes."

"How can you see it in her eyes if she won't look at you?"

Gene's eyes finally rose from his lap and so did his glare.

"Think this session's over, Headcase," he said and began herding up his belongings from the table.

"Your session isn't over."

"It is from where I'm sitting."

"We haven't spoken yet about how you're coping with your son's condition."

Gene blinked.

"Son?" he repeated in a warning tone

The psychologist looked at her notes.

"_Simon."_

Gene's face darkened. Genetics were still a sore point. He was devastated about Simon's continued comatose state but not as the anxious father. He missed his friend.

"Don't have a son," he mumbled.

"The hospital have you down as his next of kin," the psychologist reminded him and Gene began to eye up the filing cabinet.

"I said I did not have a son!" he barked. A split second later a vision of Simon as Gene had last seen him, covered with tubes and wires, flashed through his mind and he flinched. Swallowing hard, he sank back in the chair again and took a very deep breath. He eyed the psychologist. "However," he said, his voice suddenly dark and sad, "I might be prepared to talk about," he closed his eyes, "the grim prognosis of me best friend."

~xXx~

"She's my best friend and I can't do anything to help her."

"Just because you don't have an instant answer doesn't mean that you're not helping her."

"She won't talk to me, she won't look at me, she won't even cry, she just… _sits_ there. Staring."

"We all cope with grief in different ways, Jake."

"I know. But I'm scared. I don't think she's lost anyone close to her before."

"We are here to talk about you, not Marci."

"I don't know why. _I_ wasn't the one kidnapped or beaten or raped."

"You still went through the trauma of being in the building when the devices were triggered," the psychologist reminded him.

"I got away lightly."

"That doesn't mean to say that you won't experience a degree of –"

"_I'm fine."_

"You may feel fine now but if you need to talk about your experience –"

"Then I've got your number, thanks. Can I go now?"

"N-n-not quite yet, Jake. Some of your colleagues were concerned about the fact that you were… wandering around the wreckage with your shirt undone."

Jake froze as his cheeks turned very slowly from pink to red.

"Pardon?"

"You were quoted as saying the buttons were _blown away in the explosion'_." The psychologist looked at him seriously. "One of your team has suggested that you have a fetish for fire alarms and got a little carried away when they started going off."

_"What?"_ Jake's eyes bolted, "_No!"_

"It wouldn't be totally unheard of. People have been becoming sexually aroused by tornado sirens for years!"

"Who the hell are these 'people'?!" he cried then shook his head, "Nope. Forget it, I don't want to know." He shook his head and sighed, "you can rest assured that I have no sexual interest in the ringing of a fire alarm," but his face darkened further as he thought about Robin and the moments before he was called away to the emergency. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Look, forget all about the shirt thing. It's not like it'll ever happen again." He shook his head, silently adding_, I'm out of the picture now._

~xXx~

"_She came back."_

Robin stared dead ahead, his face as pale as the walls of the drab office. He swallowed as he tried to keep himself together. "I waited for months… thought I would never see her again and then suddenly… there she was." He closed his eyes, "and now she might as well not be."

"What do you mean, Robin?"

"Won't see me. Won't talk to me. Won't answer my calls… my emails… I'd write her a letter but she'd probably burn it."

"Remember that she might be going through as much difficulty as you are, adjusting to what she went through."

"It's not that."

"How can you be sure?" The psychologist noted that he didn't even consider answering that question. He blanked it out entirely, just as he had with several others. They'd _all_ been doing that. This was the most infuriating bunch of patients she had ever had. "It's natural that the arrival of your ex girlfriend will stir up a lot of feelings-"

"She's not my _ex,"_ Robin said quickly.

"But you're not together?"

"We are… we _were_…" Robin had no idea how to explain it without mentioning the whole _being-dead_ part. Damn that world. "She was…. _Overseas_," he lied, "we hadn't split up but her departure was sudden and we didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't know if I was ever going to see her again. And now she's back… she won't see me at all." He swallowed as he flinched. "Because of her new job." He bit his lip and tried to offer s mumbled excuse. "Loyalty to her new station… difficult position…"

The psychologist could see him becoming increasingly closed off by the second and decided to steer him onto another subject.

"How are you managing to deal with your experience?"

Robin gave a fitful laugh.

_"Dealing with it?_ How can I ever _deal_ with that? How can _anyone? _I'm still alive… that's as far as I've got for now."

"How are you getting on with the medication?"

Robin looked down.

"the rubbish bin was very grateful for the pills," he mumbled.

"The medication was prescribed for you for a purpose, Robin. "

"Me and the doctor were at odds over that one."

"How are you feeling in general? Emotionally?"

"Delirious. On top of the world."

"It would be in your interests to take this session seriously."

"_I am!"_

"You're clearly resistant to discussing this, which is understandable –"

"Then understand and let me go."

"Your session isn't over yet –"

"You holding me against my will as well?" Robin snapped before he could stop himself. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Look. I understand why we're supposed to see you. But we all cope with things differently. Maybe some of the others will get something out of this but I'm not one of them."

"You've been through a highly traumatic experience."

"Yeah.I have. I have. I know what's helping and what's not. Winning two hundred quid on the result of Eurovision helped. Talking to you is just making me feel worse." He shook his head. "I'll deal with it when I'm ready. At least I have that opportunity," he looked down. "At least I'm still alive."

~xXx~

"If we hadn't been…" Marci swallowed, "he'd still be alive now."

The psychologist looked at the sad girl in the tall shoes with the big hair.

"How long had you and –" she checked her notes, "Eddie been close?"

"Not that long," Marci admitted, "but that makes it worse." She breathed out, "thinking about what might have been." She put her head in her hands. "It's like he was supposed to die that day."

"Marci, no one is '_supposed'_ to die," the psychologist told her, "Eddie's death was tragic and clearly it's going to affect you and his friends and colleagues for a long time but it wasn't 'fate'. It was the wrong place at the wrong time."

But Marci shook her head.

"He was almost blown up hours earlier and I saved his life," she whispered, "he died saving mine. That's not tragedy. That's a bloody movie script."

"In time you will understand that this was just a very sad coincidence," the psychologist told her, "and although you have been profoundly affected by his death you'll understand that you cannot rationalise it. Eddie wasn't 'supposed' to die. It was a tragic loss that he did"

Marci shook her head. She couldn't believe that. Coincidences didn't come in extra-large. Suddenly it was time to question everything.

~xXx~

"She won't stop thinking about it. She thinks it was fate or something. She's got it in her head that he was supposed to die that day and now she's having some sort of," Shaz hesitated, "existential crisis."

"You seem more concerned about your friend than about yourself," the psychologist observed.

"Sorry, miss?" Shaz said distractedly.

"Every question I've asked, you've turned it around to Marci."

Shaz looked down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Then why have you been doing it?" the psychologist looked at her questioningly. "are you having trouble associating the experience to yourself? Do you find it easier focusing on someone else's version of the events?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Shaz said quietly.

"Then why?"

Shaz had a very sad smile on her face.

"It's just… it brings it all back," she said quietly, "seeing Marci go through that. Losing someone." She swallowed, "It brought it all back."

"You… lost a partner," The psychologist looked over Shaz's file, "you had some counselling last year. Is that right?"

Shaz swallowed.

"No offense, miss, it never really helped."

The psychologist almost sighed.

"Perhaps you should think about having some additional sessions."

"No, Shaz shook her head "It's not really my kind of thing. I deal with things in my own time."

"It doesn't sound as though you've dealt with it at all."

"Oh, no, I _have_, I was starting to do better." She let out her breath, "but now… seeing Marci grieving… it's brought it all back." She closed her eyes. _"I miss her so badly."_

~xXx~

"And the woman who came to your aid…"

Alex looked up, her eyes open wide.

"What about her?" she whispered quickly. She'd been silent for a full minute before that.

"She's a detective at Fenchurch West, isn't she?"

Alex felt her heart give a jolt in her chest.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Perhaps it would help you to speak to her," the psychologist suggested, noting the awkward expression on Alex's face. "An important step to acknowledging what you've been through is talking to others who shared in a part of the experience with you."

Alex closed her eyes and turned away.

"I can't do that."

"It will be difficult to face her, I am sure, but if you –"

"I mean, I actually can't do that," Alex swallowed, her voice starting to tremble, "because she won't speak to me. Won't talk to anyone." She shook her head, "she won't take our calls. She won't see us. She's shut herself away."

"Perhaps she's suffering aftereffects from the night as well," the psychologist suggested, "she may be traumatised too."

Alex felt tears threatening to form in her eyes as she thought about Kim, stuck in Fenchurch West with Keats. She didn't know what was happening beyond the doors of the station. She only knew that she would have done anything to save Kim from the darkness she had been thrust into.

"_Yes,"_ she whispered_, "I suspect she is traumatised too."_

But not as traumatised as Alex was by the thought of Kim being so close and yet so far away.

One jump and the woman was trapped in the darkness forever.

One night and the world had changed. Picking up the pieces was going to take somewhat longer.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: This is the sequel to Perfect Day. In a contrast to some of my other fics this one actually starts off dark and gets lighter as it goes on instead of the other way around! I don't think it will rise higher than a T rating this time but there's always a chance so keep that in mind! It does of course deal with the consequences and aftermath of the events in the previous story.**_

_**Big hugs, thanks and a round of fishy biscuits to everyone who is still reading and I hope you'll enjoy this slightly different and off-beat story. I have a *lot* of feels for 1997 so I'm enjoying writing about this particular year – which was of course the last tie the UK won the Eurovision Song Contest (and the last time we ever will!) This fic is named after one of my favourite songs of the year and its connection with the story will become apparent in a couple of chapters.**_

_**Usual disclaimers apply, I don't own A2A or any part of it. I have adopted them for a short time, that's all!**_


	2. Chapter 1: The Breaking of Bolly

**Chapter 1**

"…_a young man who died a hero, and who has left a gap in the hearts and lives of his friends, his colleagues and his family."_

Eddie didn't have any family, but that wasn't really important.

"Simon should have been here," Robin mumbled a little unnecessarily.

"I'll wheel him in on 'is life support, shall I?" Gene huffed and Robin looked down feeling perhaps a little more upset than he should have, or normally would have done.

X

It had been a week since the fateful night and things were barely holding themselves together. The aftermath of the bombings and Keats's actions had left the station and its staff in crisis.

As Kim had walked away from Robin and Alex neither could believe or understand what had just occurred. Exhausted and overwhelmed with anguish, Robin crumbled right in front of Alex. His last reason to hold himself together had walked right out of the door. Ever since she had pulled him from the basement he'd focused on the thought of Kim, waiting for her to come back and be with him at the hospital. He could block out his injuries, the things that Keats had said and the whole horrid experience of the bombing and his abduction as long as he was coming ever closer to the moment she walked through the doors and held him tightly again. It was all he could think about. In fact, it was all he'd thought about for months.

Alex had been in no frame of mind for supporting the crumbling man Robin became before her eyes. She was constantly on the verge of falling apart herself. All she wanted was for someone to bring Gene to her but every time she asked for him the doctors and nurses acted strangely and fobbed her off. Her mental state was deteriorating as time went by and the longer it took for Gene to come to her side the more she'd started to fall apart. Seeing Kim had initially given her a burst of strength to help keep her going until Gene came to her side but the moment she'd seen what Kim's arrest warrant said, that crumbled away in an instant.

The thought of Kim's sacrifice and the knowledge that she was stuck in Fenchurch West devastated them both. The fact that she had been there to take them both to safety was something they would never forget. But knowing there was nothing they could do to save Kim from the risky position she had taken in a place of darkness chilled them to the bone.

X

"_Bolly?"_

Alex shuddered and ignored Gene as he tried to bring her attention back to the real world in the chilly little church. Her head was still mentally stuck in the early hours of the previous Friday, down in the basement. She wouldn't let anyone in for long enough to show them that, though. She felt trapped within her own head. Anyone trying to interrupt those thoughts was intruding on private property._ Keep Off The Grass. _

"_Bolly,"_ this time she felt something nudging her arm repeatedly. Although the action was fairly gentle her body was still suffering from the myriad bruises across her delicate frame and the action made her feel sore as she looked up with a haunted yet empty expression.

"_What?"_ she hissed flatly as organ music began to play and the gathering got to their feet.

"_Hymn book,"_ Gene said, thrusting toward her the item he'd been poking her with a few moments before.

Alex stared down at it; the small book in his hand, then back at his face. She made no attempt to take the book but had something else on her mind.

"Don't call me that," she said quietly to a frown from Gene,

"What?" he asked her.

She turned her eyes away and took the book in silence. Not only did she not want to hear it from Gene but she didn't want to have to say it herself. Keats had stolen the name that only Gene used for her and sullied it. Now she couldn't stand to hear it. It had become a reminder not only of Keats's actions but of a relationship that was falling apart.

Gene stared sadly at Alex as she pulled open the hymn book at the wrong page and stared at the words, moving her lips occasionally to give the impression of singing along to _How Great Thou Art_ when in reality she was chiming in with a few mumbled words from _Morning Has Broken_. He shook his head slightly and lowered his neck so that he didn't have to see her blank expression for another moment.

In his mind he played over the terrible moment that would be the root of his nightmares forever more. From the moment Kim had made her unexpected arrival he knew there was a possibility that something had happened. When the ambulance driver had been found tied up beside the dumpsters that risk had grown exponentially. But he also knew there had been many ambulances coming in and out of the car park and the chances that Alex had been put into a safe, regular ambulance and taken to hospital far outweighed the possibility of anything so audacious as her being abducted while strapped down and injured. And when Simon was pulled from the building and his condition stated as critical Gene's guilt at leaving him to face the falling bricks had taken him by surprise and he'd had to focus on staying with him for the journey. He didn't know Keats had been implicated in the ambulance theft. If he had then maybe he would have gone after her instead, but –

He shut his eyes and shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about the _'what if's._ That was all he'd done since that night. If he was honest he knew that the outcome had probably been for the best because if he'd gone storming into Fenchurch West he wouldn't have been as sly as Kim and would probably have only ended up as another victim in the pile. He knew his technique was more _act first, think later._ From what he'd heard about Keats's set-up he probably would have ended up doing his thinking while tied to a filing cabinet.

But even so, the moment that Jake walked grimly down the corridor towards him with _that_ look on his face and said the words; "_I'm sorry Guv,"_ Gene would have done anything to turn back time, to ask someone else to travel with Simon, to head to hospital with Alex and to keep her safe from harm.

The decision had been taken not to tell Gene about Alex until Simon was out of surgery. On reflection it was the wrong decision but at the time it was hard to know what to do for the best. Within moments Gene had been told that his one real friend and the product of _Balls A La Hunt_ had survived surgery but was unlikely to regain consciousness, then with his next breath he heard the words, "_DCI Drake is safe now, but –"_

That 'but' had been the most painful word Gene had ever heard.

Demanding to be taken to her, his brain went over all the possibilities as he marched at speed down corridor after corridor to find her sitting on the edge of a bed, feeling as exposed in her hospital smock as she had in the basement. She shivered, her face was pale and she looked a moment away from tears at all times, but she wouldn't let them fall.

"_Bolly –"_

The first word he said to her was the one she didn't want to hear. He didn't know that – how _could_ he have known that? But it set off a wave of pain that made her scurry back a little on the bed.

He tried to hold her. She became cold and unresponsive, her mind shutting down the instant that he touched her. She didn't mean to. She just couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching her. Her skin felt ultra-sensitive as though it burned every time someone laid their hands on her. He tried to hold her hand and she pulled it away. He started to become annoyed and frustrated and she hid her face from him. Eventually he snapped at her and she threw a kidney dish at him which gave him the shock of his life, but the moment a doctor came in and started talking about sexually transmitted diseases and the morning after pill he realised exactly why was reacting that way and suddenly felt another wave of guilt crash over him.

"_Why the hell did none if those bloody drones tell me?!"_ he'd growled angrily, utterly devastated by everything from what he perceived were a flurry of wrong decisions on his part to not knowing why Alex behaved in such a fashion, to the fact that no one had told him the extent of Alex's devastating experience.

Throughout the next day Gene tried to make up to Alex everything that he felt was his fault but the more he tried to help her the more she withdrew. By the time she was allowed home late on Saturday she was talking to Gene like she'd talk to a stranger and still couldn't bear to be touched. Gene tried every tactic that he could think of to get her to talk to him. He was a whisker away from threatening the filing cabinet. The only time he elicited a tiny smile was when he offered her alcohol which he wasn't even sure was the right thing to do because she'd been given such a lot of painkillers and sedatives.

Before they went to bed that night he turned the pages on the calendar to ring the date that they'd chosen for their wedding less than 2 days earlier. He noticed her eyes glazed over and she withdrew further into herself as he made comments about their upcoming big day. They might have set off for bed together that night but Alex's body posture and coolness left them worlds apart and when Gene finally drifted to sleep she slipped out from under the covers and took to the couch, alone. The next morning he found Alex sitting at the table, not eating a bowl of cornflakes, and the calendar missing from the wall. He hadn't dared to ask where it was.

As the days passed things hadn't changed in the slightest. Gene kept a constant and careful watch over Alex's hand. The ring was still on her finger but in all honesty he had a feeling that it wasn't going to be there for long. She was slipping away from him and he didn't have the faintest fucking idea how to stop her.

X

"…_One of Edward's colleagues would like to read to you today…" _

Gene's attention came back to the present as Marci stepped to the front of the church and began a reading that Gene presumed was from the bible but could have been from _Noddy Goes to Toytown_ for all the attention he was paying. He stole a glance at Alex beside him. Her eyes were fixed on the front of the church but he could tell her attention was as far away as his own because far from being focused on Marci her gaze was blank and seemed to roam all over the place.

"_Bolly,"_ he hissed, trying to get her attention but he saw her face darken with his use of that word. What the fuck was happening to her; to the woman he'd known for sixteen years and loved for the best part of that? He knew that what she had been through was more than anyone should ever have to; let alone the person who meant the most to him in that world or any other. He'd seen victims at the station destroyed over less. But he wanted his Bolly back. And right there and then he wasn't sure whether she would ever even allow him to say that word again.


	3. Chapter 2: The Troubles of a Team

**Chapter 2**

"There's more of it left than I thought there was going to be."

Robin adjusted his hard hat feeling like an idiot as he walked with the rest of the reluctant party through the half-destroyed corridor.

"Are you sure we should be in here, sir?" Shaz asked anxiously and Robin shrugged.

"_He_ is," he said, pointing at Gene who was already halfway up the staircase.

Two weeks since the blasts and finally Gene had been allowed access to the building. He'd been clamouring for the right to investigate the damage almost from the first day but as most of the filing cabinets had been blown up on the night he didn't have a lot of leverage. Finally he'd been granted permission to re-enter the building after agreeing to an abhorrent amount of conditions. Wearing the hard hats was point number one.

They trailed up to CID, entering cautiously one at a time. Gene's eyes scanned the office, the charred and crumbling walls sending a horrid shudder down his spine.

"Thought more of this might have changed by now," he mumbled to himself.

Robin was close enough to hear and asked,

"What do you mean?"

Gene hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. He knew he shouldn't have done, but it was too late now. Making sure that flapping ears weren't too close by, he leaned in and said quietly,

"Something like this happens, we usually skip a bit."

"A bit of what?"

"Few weeks. Months." Gene remembered the bomb concealed in Nailer's computer that had taken out a chunk of the station a year and a half previously. That had coincided with the loss of half his team to the Railway Arms and the arrival of new recruits. He felt strangely anxious as he realised that the blast had seen an end for several of his colleagues – mostly ones who worked under Simon - and yet there was no sign of anyone new. Was the world on strike?

"What do you want us to do, Guv?" Jake asked, "start gathering up the files for current cases or protecting the archives?"

Gene hesitated for a moment before he turned to Jake. He found himself giving a momentary shrug, which wasn't like him in the slightest, then he shook his head.

"Whatever I say is only going to be wrong so do what you like," he said, garnering curious frowns from those around him.

"That's not like you," Robin couldn't help commenting.

Gene was too distracted by Alex to realise that Robin may have been angling for a visit to the filing cabinet. He watched as she walked slowly across to the calendar on the wall and quickly pulled it down. He cleared his throat and she glanced around guiltily.

"Think I wasn't going to notice, Bols?" he asked. A dark look settling onto her face even though he had used the shorter version of her nickname. "_Alex,"_ he corrected with a sarcastic tone in his voice. Alex stared back coolly, not caring to get into an argument but clearly in no mood to make apologies that she didn't mean. She took a deep breath and, when she couldn't think of anything to say to Gene, she turned around.

"I'm going to check my office," she said quietly.

"That's it, walk away," Gene mumbled just loud enough to make sure she heard, "times like this we stick together. Apart from when you prefer the company of yer own four walls to mine."

Alex didn't react. She just carried on walking, ignoring his tone completely. There was a little pang of guilt that popped up for the way that she was treating him and she knew that what she was doing was cruel but she couldn't stop herself from blaming him for the choices he'd made, nor could she stop herself from pushing him away. She couldn't stand the idea of ever being touched again, or ever being intimate with someone. It had been sullied for her forever. Keats had stolen from her something that she could never get back.

Robin felt anxious as he watched her walking away and, feeling somewhat nervous, he asked Gene;

"I… I don't want to stick my nose in but… " he chewed on his lip as he glanced towards the door, "Alex… how is she doing?"

Gene looked at Robin with darkness in his eyes.

"Try asking someone she'll open up her bloody gob and talk to," he said and turned away leaving Robin to wonder what he'd said or done wrong. He felt anxious and nerves started to prick him as he thought about Alex and her lost expression. Something was wrong, quite clearly, and he couldn't just leave it at that.

After what they'd both been through, albeit at different parts of the building in Fenchurch West, their abduction led Alex and Robin to feel a deeper connection after their treatment at the hands of Keats. Their friendship was already close but now they found themselves understanding each other even more than before. Robin was the one person who Alex seemed to be able to open up to whenever their paths crossed.

He wandered slowly down the corridor and found her sitting on the floor of her office.

"Alex?" he frowned.

Alex looked over to him, a little startled by his arrival. She tried to smile a welcome to him but it fell rather flat.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I was just checking the damage to my office."

"Good view from down there?" Robin asked and Alex gave him a slightly rueful smile.

"I suppose _he_ sent you?" she said.

"Who?"

"_Gene."  
_

Robin shook his head.

"He was a little…" he hesitated, "…_short_ with me."

Alex looked down.

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

"I think he's worried about you," Robin told her. She looked away awkwardly and didn't reply. "I'm worried too," he told her. He sank down by her side and turned to her. "How are you coping?"

Alex stared at the wall opposite.

"Asking me _how_ implies that I _am_," she said. She sighed and shook her head. "Ask me another."

"OK," Robin sighed, "what's going on between you and Gene?"

Alex shook her head again.

"Ask me something that doesn't involve _me_ in any way shape or form," she said. She tried to force a smile. "I'm sorry, Robin. I don't feel ready to go into things yet."

"It's OK," Robin said quickly, "I understand." He suspected he understood a little too well. While his treatment at the hands of Keats had been different to Alex's he was having nightmares all the time and still bore a number of injuries. He let out his breath. "Is it alright if _I_ talk?"

Alex glanced at him cautiously, wondering if it was some kind of a trick to get her to open up but his expression seemed pained.

"Of course," she said.

Robin bit his lip and stared at his knees as he bunched them up to his chest.

"Alex," he began quietly, "have you spoken to her?" he turned to Alex and added unnecessarily, "to Kim?"

Alex's expression which was already strained and stressed fell further.

"No," she whispered.

Robin let out a heavy sigh.

"Have you tried calling?" he asked quietly.

"Every single day," Alex said quietly.

Robin closed his eyes.

"She won't answer my calls," he whispered, "not at all. I've tried leaving messages. I've called from other lines. I've left messages with false names. I can't get to her at all."

Alex nodded slowly.

"If I get through to the station then it goes straight to her answerphone," she said, "and whenever I've spoken to someone and left a message I'm not even sure it gets to her."

Robin nodded slowly as his heart physically ached inside of his chest. He kept his eyes tightly shut as he whispered,

"I thought dying was as bad as it would get. Being on opposite sides… I thought that was as hard as anything I would ever have to face. But now she's here… and _so close…._ And yet she's further away than ever."

He fell silent as he tried to keep his composure. The last thing he wanted to do was to fall apart, but it was getting harder to keep himself together. He opened his eyes as he felt a hand on his knee and found Alex looking as lost as he felt.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

Robin breathed in slowly then exhaled. His mind was skipping all over the place as the mental images of Kim arriving to take him to safety filled his mind.

"She looked so thin," he whispered.

"Pardon?"

"_Kim,"_ he elaborated, "she was so skinny. Like bare bones."

Alex looked at him seriously.

"Robin, she's been through _hell_," she whispered, "she lost you, and your baby, and who knows what else she has been through out there."

"But she looked so frail," he said quietly.

"Sometimes it's hard to eat when you're depressed," Alex reminded him, "plus she didn't have your amazing cookery skills on tap any longer."

Robin tried to smile but it faded away to nothing.

"Kim always goes one way or the other" he said quietly, "she either stops eating completely or stuffs herself with junk."

"There you go then," Alex said quietly, "but she _will_ pull herself together, Robin. Because she's Kim. That's what she does."

For a moment Robin seemed almost to feel a little reassured but then his expression darkened again.

"I can't stand to think of her _in there,"_ Robin said with more of an edge to his voice, "with _him."_ He closed his eyes again. "I'm so scared for her."

"If there's one person who can survive –" Alex began in reassurance mode, but the sinking feeling inside her halted her sentence halfway and she turned to Robin with nervous eyes. "_So am I,"_ she whispered instead.

"Why did she do it?" Robin whispered, "she did do what I _think_ she did, didn't she?" he looked at Alex, "she killed herself."

Alex found herself biting on her lip, mirroring Robin's nervous habit. She wished that she could tell him that they might have been wrong or that there was another possibility but she couldn't.

"Somehow she knew we needed her," she said quietly, "and if she hadn't then who knows what would have happened. We could both be dead by now."

"She gave up her life to get here," Robin said, his voice shaking, "and now she's here she's lost her freedom. She's stuck in there. With _him. Keats,"_ he spat that word violently. "She's not safe. We both know it. He could do _anything_ to her, anything at all." A shudder passed down his spine, "anything that he's done to either of us."

Alex was out of reassurances, such as they were. The more Robin voiced his fears, the more she felt them too.

"Then we'll just have to hope," she whispered eventually, "that we've saved up a couple of miracles somewhere. Because Kim needs to get out of that place."

Robin swallowed.

"I already spoke to the Super to see if there was anything that he could do," he said quietly, "that place is like a bloody fortress of Keats's mind. He controls _everything_. No one transfers without his say so."

"How did she even get _in_ there?" Alex wondered grimly, "I mean to say… I know how she got in there…. But as a _DCI?_ Keats won't allow that."

"But Kim is the most stubborn person who's ever walked the earth," Robin reminded her, "if there's one person bloody-minded enough to simply force her way into that station with her rank…" he hesitated for a second. "I didn't even know she was a DCI before I saw her warrant." He looked at Alex. "You know though, a few months back I had a weird vision. I saw Kim's name on Gene's door."

A frown crossed Alex's brow.

"Seriously?" she asked and Robin nodded.

"It was just for a moment. Then it disappeared again."

Alex fell silent as she contemplated Robin's strange news.

"It's not Gene's door her name is now though," she said quietly, "is it?"

"I've got to get her out of that place," Robin whispered. He felt sick at the thought of it; Kim stuck in the darkness, Keats lurking around every corner. "What if he turns on the gas and air?" He realised too late that Alex wasn't the best person to mention that too as she turned even paler and looked as though she was about to cry. He hastily offered apologies but it didn't stop him worrying about Kim and the most horrible possibility. He hung his head. "Have to get her out," he mumbled. He rubbed his eye feverishly, attempting to hide a tear that was making an escape attempt. "I miss her so much."

"I know, Robin," Alex said quietly. She sighed. "Me too."

Robin bit his lip anxiously.

"In… what way, exactly?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, catching on a moment too late. She gave a sigh. "Robin, you said we didn't have anything to talk about –"

"We _don't,"_ he said quickly, "I meant it, it's _fine_, it's…" he hesitated, not wanting to offend Alex. "But things are different now that she's walked into this world. I just…" he felt himself reddening. He wasn't very good at things like this. This was one of the most awkward conversations of his life. "…just wanted to know… how you felt… when you saw her again?" He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "Just so as I know."

Alex felt awkward and somewhat guilty as she looked away. She couldn't pretend her thoughts about Kim were entirely platonic after the night they'd shared.

"Robin, right now I am in the middle of," she paused and flinched, "the biggest…. _mental mess_ of my life. I don't even know how I feel about _Gene_, let alone Kim. I can't even contemplate that question."

"That's OK, That's OK, that's… fair enough," Robin said quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I just don't know," Alex admitted quietly, "right now all I can think about is getting through another day in one piece, trying to block election night out of my head and watching the clock until my next batch of pills are due." Her eyes skipped to the cock. _"Fifteen minutes and counting."_

"At least you get to clock watch," Robin pointed out.

"Oh yeah, _lucky me_ being DOA," Alex sighed.

"Did they give you any of Simon's little blue and white pills?" Robin asked.

Alex shook her head slowly.

"Mine are white and yellow," she said.

Robin nodded.

"Bet those are banned by now anyway," Robin said quietly.

Alex looked at him.

"Is there any news on his condition?" she asked quietly and Robin looked down

"Gene knows better than I do," he said.

"Gene's not been very forthcoming," Alex said quietly. She breathed in and out very slowly. "He won't go to see him any more either."

Robin frowned.

"What?"

"He didn't tell me why," Alex said quietly and looked away. "Although I suppose I haven't exactly made it easy for him to talk to me lately."

"Then who's been visiting him?" Robin asked, "I mean, I've gone when I can, but I don't really feel right about it."

"You're still friends," Alex reminded him.

"But the last thing we did was fight," Robin reminded her, "to _physically_ fight. My apology… I don't even know if it got to him…"

"It did," Alex assured him quietly, "Shaz told him just before –" she flinched, "- _the accident."_

Robin felt a little uplifted at the news. At the very least Simon knew that he felt terrible for their fight. He nodded.

"Even so," he said with a difficult sigh. He glanced at Alex. "Simon… uh," he cleared his throat. "Look, before I came back here… while we were still in separate worlds… before…" he felt guilty, "me and Kim were together… Simon changed his name by deed poll. His surname. To Shoebury-Thomas." He felt the guilt of their relationship ending all over again, "I guess he dropped the other bit in general usage but…" he sighed, "he never changed it back and the hospital keep using his legal name."

Alex could understand why that made Robin feel awkward.

"I'm sorry, Rob," she said which caught Robin by surprise. It was only Kim and Simon who ever called him that. The friendship that he'd forged with Alex was a bright spot in the dark times. He smiled at her.

Footsteps came closer along the corridor and stopped nearby.

"Ma'am," Jake's voice came from the doorway, "the Guv wants to know if you –"

Jake stopped talking as he realised Robin was right there in the room. He swallowed and shuffled in the spot as Alex looked at him in confusion.

"Wants to know if I what?" she asked.

Jake tried to compose himself.

"Uh, just… if you wanted lunch," he said, "getting some sandwiches."

"No thank you," Alex said quietly, "I'm not really hungry."

Jake glanced at Robin, feeling the heat rising to his face right away.

"And you, Sir?" he asked quietly.

Robin stumbled over his words a little.

"Uh no – yes," he mumbled, "uh yeah. Food sandwiches. I mean _tuna_. _Tuna sandwiches."_

Jake nodded.

"Alright," he said as he made a hasty exit and Robin felt Alex's eyes boring into him like fire. He glanced around nervously to find her eyebrow raised by a mile.

_"Food_ sandwiches?" she asked.

Robin's face started to redden.

"I get flustered when I'm choosing food," he lied.

"_Food sandwiches?"_ Alex repeated. She frowned at Robin. "Have you and Jake fallen out?" she asked.

"No," Robin shook his head.

"There's something that isn't right between you," she said. She noticed Robin looked a little shifty and adjusted his weight as though considering getting up and leaving. "Come on, Robin, I've got eyes," she said, "what's happened? I know that Jake's had a bit of a crush on you –"

"How did you know that?" Robin asked quickly.

"Well for one thing the lump in his trousers when he saw you," Alex pointed out which made Robin flush desperately and try to hide behind the coat stand.

"It's nothing," he mumbled.

"Robin," Alex's expression softened, "if you can't talk to me then who _can_ you talk to?"

"Who says I want to talk?" Robin mumbled, already knowing that his need to share what happened that night was blatant. He shook his head slowly. "Alex… me and Jake… almost had a thing going on. The night of the blasts."

"What kind of a thing?" Alex asked.

"I'm not drawing you _diagrams,"_ Robin knew that Alex had a fairly good idea already and didn't want to go into detail, "things had been kind of… funny between us for a while. I knew he liked me after Gene's party. I just," he swallowed, "didn't realise I liked him back."

"_Oh,"_ Alex's curiosity was piqued.

"It was after I fought with Simon," Robin put his head in his hands, "Jake was seeing to my injuries. Things started to happen. I never _meant_ it to, it just… it felt _natural_," he cringed a little, wondering if he sounded too corny, "but we kind of… we got interrupted by an emergency and I left Jake waiting and never went back because I ended up tied up in Keats's office."

A memory came back to Alex.

"Jake's _shirt…"_ she began and noticed Robin smiling with embarrassment.

"Yeah. My fault," he said grimly, "_sorry."_

Alex nodded slowly. This was the first thing that had taken her mind away from her terrible experience in two weeks.

"And since then?"

Robin covered his face with the palms of his hands.

"Since then he won't talk to me, won't look at me, keeps running away whenever we're in close proximity..." he slowly revealed one eye to glance at Alex. "And _I_ can't really talk, because I'm doing exactly the same thing." He groaned. "_Food sandwiches."_

Alex tried to take it all in.

"And where is Kim in all of this?" she asked quietly.

"_Says you,"_ Robin pointed out.

"I'm _so_ glad we've reached the point in our friendship where you feel comfortable taunting me for sleeping with your fiancée," Alex said.

Robin wasn't sure whether she was being serious or sarcastic, nor whether she was annoyed with him for his comment but she didn't look angry or upset, more bemused by the kind of conversation they were having.

"Me and Kim," he began with a sigh, "we're kind of different to most people. We're in a relationship that neither of us ever expected to be in and we've had a complicated situation with _this_ place and the _real_ world fighting over us. What happened before, when I went home for those few weeks… you and Kim, Simon's anger and jealousy… we realised we needed to have a really serious conversation. We knew things weren't the same for us as they were for others. We agreed that if we were separated again then we would never want the other to be lonely and if either of us met someone…" He trailed away, leaving that thought unfinished as he looked a little sheepish, "and there are things we missed about being with… the kind of people that… is _natural_ to us. I miss…" he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, "men."

"So you… wanted to become swingers?" Alex frowned.

"Good god, no, can you see me running off and having sex with strangers at wild parties?"

Alex laughed a little at the thought.

"No," she admitted.

Robin shook his head.

"Nah. Not what either of us meant. We talked about…" he shrugged, "other relationships. But only ones that meant something. I didn't want some sordid fling. Neither did she. We talked about, I don't know… something a bit more than 'friends with benefits'…" he felt awkward talking about it with someone who wasn't Kim, unsure if Alex would understand, but Alex didn't seem horrified or disgusted, simply interested.

"And Jake," she began curiously, "he would fill those requirements?"

Robin looked down like an embarrassed kid.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "there's something about him. ."

Alex chewed softly on the inside of her cheek.

"And Kim?" she began, "did she have anyone in mind?"

"Anyone, or someone specifically?" Robin asked, noticing that Alex was starting to look a little pink in the cheeks. She looked away and gave a shamed smile, caught out in her curiosity.

"Ignore me," she said quietly.

"Kim's liked you since she was in ninety five, Alex, you're aware of that now," Robin told her, "but she knows you've got Gene."

Alex seemed rather crestfallen at his words, then slightly annoyed as she mumbled,

"Even _I_ don't know if I've '_got Gene'_ or not."

"Maybe this isn't the best time to be talking about this," Robin suggested.

"Oh please, Robin, your love life is the only thing that's given me a distraction lately."

Robin wasn't entirely sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but it was good having someone to talk to.

"Well anyway, it's not happening between me and Jake," he said looking a little sad, "He knew I was in a relationship but that we couldn't be together… now she's back he doesn't want to know."

"He knows Kim is around?"

"And knows that she won't even see me, but," Robin shrugged, "he's a bit scared of her to be honest. She scared the crap out of him."

"_She did?_ When did she _meet_ him?" Alex frowned.

"On _that night_," Robin made a weird head gesture, "he didn't know who he was talking to at the time, but now he knows."

Alex sighed.

"Kim _is_ scary," she agreed.

In the silence that followed as they contemplated the terror of Kim, Robin heard Alex's stomach growling and glanced at her as she pretended nothing had happened.

"Thought you weren't hungry," he said.

"I'm not," Alex said curtly.

Robin looked at her sadly.

"Come on, Alex," he said, "please don't become another Kim."

Alex looked away, ignoring her worries.

"Just don't want any lunch," she said, "that's all."

Robin felt his heart sinking.

"I'm worried about you, Alex," he admitted.

Alex stared at a blank spot on the wall until the truth slipped out.

"_So am I,"_ she whispered.

~xXx~

Jake checked his notepad as he walked back into CID.

"Got everyone's requests, Guv," he said, "except DCI Drake who doesn't want one."

"Fine," Gene spat, "why would she when she could lose another inch off her non-existent _arse_ instead?"

Jake was a little taken aback.

"And, uh, I couldn't find Marci, either" he said.

"Top of the ruddy Pops," Gene snapped, snatching off his hard hat with extreme prejudice, "that's where you'll find her. Along with Weedy Spice, Snooty Spice, Dykey Spice and Boobie Spice."

"I don't think those are their authorised names," Jake said sheepishly but scuttled off when Gene shot a glare his way, then absconded from the office.

~xXx~

The desk was all that was left of him.

Marci had been staring at it for ten minutes, rubbing her fingers back and forth on the surface. She sniffed and felt her eyelid twitch. That had better not have been a tear threatening to fall. She swallowed as she recalled those painful last moments, the way he saved her life, the way the explosion and the building swallowed him up. She felt so angry and resentful. _She'd_ saved _his_ fucking life just hours earlier – what had they gone through all of that for if they weren't going to be together anyway? Why has she been permitted to save his life if he wasn't meant to _live? _

The last person she had been expecting to arrive at the doorway was Gene, and the last person _he'd_ been expecting to see in there was Marci.

"Morning, Nicey Spice," he mumbled.

She barely glanced at him.

"I'll go," she mumbled.

"No need," Gene told her but she began to walk towards the door anyway. "Marci."

Marci stopped and looked at him.

"What?"

Gene turned back to the room and nodded towards it.

"He was a bit of a strange one," he said, "your friend Eddie."

Marci closed her eyes momentarily.

"Got that right" she whispered.

Gene stared around the Hi-tech Crimes office and exhaled loudly.

"Simon's lost his whole department in one fell swoop," he muttered, "Vickery carked it too. Not that anyone's going to notice. But then, that's what you get for spending your life hiding in the bogs and –"

Gene found the end of his sentence stunted by the sudden arrival of a Marci who seemed to fly at him in an instant and without warning he found her arms around him as she sobbed against his chest. His first instinct was to warn her to mind the tie. The second was to place his hands awkwardly around her and just allow her to cry.

As his eyes looked past the top of her head into the room Gene couldn't help but wonder whether it wasn't just Simon's team that were supposed to be wiped out that day. He felt angry with himself for thinking it but he couldn't shake the thought that Simon's own condition was so precarious that he just might have been destined to go too.

He didn't want to think about that. He couldn't stand to. So he turned his attention to letting Marci cry for as long as she needed to.

_At least someone is opening up to me,_ he thought to himself.

The fact that it wasn't Alex made him sting inside.


	4. Chapter 3: The Way of the West

**Chapter 3**

"…That concludes the information we have right now but my snout suggests that this attack could be taking place in the next two weeks."

Kim sighed internally as she tapped her pen on the desk, listening to the words of the prim and proper DS whose skirts had been edging shorter and shorter on Keats's request in the week since she arrived.

"Alright," she sighed, "thank you DS Lowry. " her eyes scanned the room, facing all the faces of the people who knew no differently who thought this was as good as it got. What had they done? How had they ended up there?

Her eyes settled upon the dark, domineering figure at the far end of the room, arms folded and glare set on 'full'. Even now, three weeks past her arrival, that glare sent a terrible shudder down her spine and she wasn't sure that was ever going to stop. It made her swallow anxiously for a moment before she caught herself and strengthened her resolve. She set her face as sternly as she could and blocked out the stare.

"So we know a list of potential targets and we know a general reason why… the remains of the mess left by Nick Nailer's departure from the narcotics network." She saw Keats visibly bristle at the mention of Nailer. Seemed to be a touchy subject. Kim didn't know why but knew it was worth bearing in mind. Every tiny piece of ammunition against him was worth gathering. "Lowry and Ball, take the files on Nailer and go through them with a fine tooth comb. I need two lists; allies and enemies." She pushed a stack of files towards the side of the desk, "Dillion, Hanid, you both have sources connected to the area we're looking at, see if there's any word going around on this. Haig, take control of the Crocker case while we put our resources into this." Her eyes met Keats's glare again but this time she felt stronger; _defiant_, "Do you have anything to add, DCI Keats?" she challenged.

Keats glowered at her.

"Not at this present time," he sneered through gritted teeth, _"DCI Stringer."_

"I'm sure we're all relieved to hear that," Kim said, aware that her words had turned up the heat on his fury. She pretended to forget he was there was she dismissed the others and watched them heading off in their different directions. She felt a little like a teacher dismissing her class for lunch. Soon the bustle had passed by and she became well aware that there were only two figures left in the room; herself and the man whose glare she had been trying to avoid. She tried to ignore him at first, concentrating on gathering up her notes and preparing to head back to her own office but a shadow encroached upon her and before she knew it his coat was practically flapping in her face.

"I don't remember giving you free reign of the department," he spat as his long, narrow fingers stretched out onto her desk.

"Someone had to take charge of the briefing," Kim tried to keep her voice cool and measured, "_your_ main contribution was paying an urgent visit to the toilet when DS Lowry brought up the subject of Nick Nailer."

"_Fucking smug idiot,"_ Keats mumbled, "the kind of man that gives royalty an inferiority complex."

"Surprised you didn't get on well with him, then," Kim said as she began to stand.

"I hope you're going to the canteen," Keats told her which seemed like a particularly random and ridiculous thing to say, even for him.

"You can rest assured that when I want to spend a week in hospital with salmonella poisoning that's the first place you'll find me," she said, forcing herself not to look at him as she got to her feet and started to walk from the office.

"We need to catch criminals, not prepare for the fucking catwalk," he spat as he marched after her, "Stick insect look doesn't suit you, Kimberley." He reached the door and peered around to see her disappearing at speed around the end of the corridor. _"Eat something before you get a job as a bloody toothpick, Kimberley," _he yelled, garnering a couple of confused stares from some passing officers. He scowled at them. "And what the hell do _you_ want?" he demanded, "people _are_ allowed to yell. It's not against the law. Not yet at least."

He stepped back and slammed the door, leaning against it and panting hard as that familiar sensation began to creep in; the one he resented, the one that made him want to scream and throw up all at once, the one that he felt every time he got too close or stared at her for too long.

_That god damn human side._

He shut his eyes tightly as his face reddened and he tried desperately to force it away. There wasn't room for man _and_ monster inside his head. He had to concentrate on keeping himself as dark and malicious as possible. It was bad enough that she was stealing half of his energy. The fact that without it his magnificent evilness was fading just about tortured him to pieces.

This had _never_ happened before.

Even when a DCI had entered his station they'd taken an instant demotion.

What was so special about Kimberley?

_The fact that she is fucking special at all,_ he thought angrily to himself.

The change had been instant. He had felt it the moment he laid eyes on her. No, _before_ that. He recalled the strange turn he had, waiting for the devices to detonate. He knew now that was Kim entering the world. Keats had become used to drawing the dark energy that was created accidentally to oppose the goodness in the four figures who led Fenchurch East; _Gene, Alex, Simon and Robin_. Now that energy was split two ways and he found himself unable to use it the way he always had before. His hold over people had lessened, his head fuzzier and his strength diminished. He resented Kim even more for that and wondered how the energy would eventually affect her. He knew that it _would_, sooner or later, but right there and then she seemed to be acting like some kind of sponge, absorbing more and more without showing outwardly any effects.

"Make the most of it, Kimberley," he hissed to himself, angrily wiping the sweat that had gathered unexpectedly on his brow, "because sooner or later something's going to snap. That energy's going to have to go somewhere. You'll either start sending it back to me or you'll end up standing by my side." His eyes closed. _"Lying_ by my side," he whispered in a far more human tone before he realised what he had said and his eyes flew open.

He breathed heavily, forcing those human thoughts away. This wasn't the time to let things through. He had to hold on to his station – and to his malevolence.

~xXx~

Kim sank into the chair at her desk only too aware that there was a migraine sneaking in. She seemed to be suffering with them more and more. They weren't like normal migraines either; they were born of a darkness that she fought hard to keep out of her soul. She found instead that it manifested as physical symptoms. She pulled out her desk drawer and grabbed for the headache pills, unwisely downing two of them with scotch. She knew that wasn't advisable but she was beyond caring.

Picking up the phone, she dialled a number that had become so familiar to her in recent weeks. Her heart started thumping as her call was answered and she began awkwardly,

"Hello, my name's DCI Kim Stringer, and I'm calling for an update on the progress of Simon Shoebury." She paused as the hospital staff _ummed_ and _ahhed_ about letting her have one before she threatened them with lawsuits and violence and a report of 'no significant change' came her way instead. She gave a deep and despairing sigh. It was the same thing she'd been told every time she'd called. "Thank you anyway," she mumbled as she put down the phone.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, a heaviness in her chest as she recalled the state of Simon being pulled from the building. The more time went by, the less likely it seemed that Simon was going to make a recovery. Moments from that terrible night played back and forth in her mind. She relived them every night when she closed her eyes. She was knocking herself out nightly with scotch and pills but they seemed to be having less and less effect as time went by.

She choked up as she remembered Robin, tied and battered in Keats's office, and Alex, exposed and anguished in the basement. She'd arrived in time to keep them alive but not soon enough to save them from experiences that were, she was certain, destroying them in memory. She shut her eyes and leaned back as she thought about what came after; her confrontation with Keats. She'd made a dramatic arrest but it was clear that even though the station had accepted her as Keats's equal and rival it was still protecting him. The charges wouldn't stick.

"Fucking Teflon-coated arse," she whispered.

She'd had final confirmation that morning of them being dropped completely. Her heart had broken in two.

Her eyes opened as she slipped a strip of paper from her drawer with a number scrawled on it and bit her lip. She'd been staring at it on and off ever since she arrived at work. It felt like such a terrifying step to take. She'd been as careful as anything to separate herself from the other station, to keep those she cared for safe, but she couldn't let this slide.

With one last deep breath for courage she picked up the phone and bashed out the number from the paper then waited. After three rings there was a click and a slightly muffled message played.

_"This is me answerphone. Apparently. They said I had to record a message. I wanted to just say sod off but for some reason that wasn't deemed acceptable, apparently. So I'm supposed to tell you to leave a message after the noise or whatever it is, but don't expect me to call you back because I can't work the bloody thing."_

Kim pulled a face as she realised there was a very slight possibility of Gene ever receiving the message. She sighed as the bleep played.

"Guv," her voice shook as she spoke in hushed tones with one eye on the door, "no one must know I'm calling you. Do not tell a soul. I need your help." She swallowed as her mouth filled with nervous saliva. "You have to listen to me. I _can't_ get the charges against Keats to stick here. The fucking walls have a boner for him. This place keeps him safe. You have to arrest him on behalf of Fenchurch East. Get Rob and Alex to press charges and arrest him from there, or he'll get away with it." She swallowed as she whispered, "and please, stay safe."

She slammed down the phone quickly, so scared of being talking to Fenchurch East. Her heart was pounding. This was torture, _pure fucking torture._

She held her breath as the door opened. It was a gesture that was never going to bring great news and this was no exception. There he stood; the face she didn't want to see.

"_I'm busy,"_ she hissed.

Keats wrinkled up his nose.

"Busy pickling yourself, yes, I can smell that."

"What do you want?" she demanded as Keats threw a sandwich at her. It landed on the desk and spun a few times on its shiny surface.

"It's not Halloween, Kimberley," he sneered, "I'm sick of looking at a fucking skeleton."

Kim glowered at the sandwich as she snatched it up and threw it back at him.

"I know the kind of secret ingredients you add to things," she spat.

Keats was genuinely taken aback by the reaction. He had expected a glare or an insult but the violent sandwich-throwing had come as a shock, as had the venom in her voice. Torn between anger and amusement he stared at her.

"_Well well,"_ he said, "you got into Fenchurch West. It looks like Fenchurch West is getting into you."

"_Fuck off out of my office!"_ Keats's words had disturbed Kim and she wasn't going to let him hang around to impart any more observations. She rose to her feet, chasing him out with nothing more than her glare, then sat back down shakily. She swallowed and tried to draw in a few calming breaths. This wasn't like her. Even when she was using her forceful nature to get her own way she'd never behaved like that.

What if he was right? She'd been fighting _so hard_ but the energy was strong.

Was it stronger than her?

She knew only time would tell.


	5. Chapter 4: The Promise of a Partnership

**Chapter 4**

Victoria turned off the water and draped a soft, fluffy towel around her body. She stepped out of the shower, pushing back her long, flame-coloured hair and gave a sigh of contentment as she turned to the mirror and picked up her brush. She felt her lips twitching into a smile as she worked it through the damp tangles and towel-dried it the best that she could. The gorgeous sunshine would do the rest.

She liked her reflection a lot more these days. When she looked at herself in the mirror she saw someone staring back who was actually living life as opposed to staring out through a window imposed by Keats and his station.

Now she saw a smile instead of a frown. Her eyes were the sparkling emerald green that they were supposed to be instead of the dull and lifeless grey that they'd been since her arrival in the land of darkness. Her skin had a constant golden glow from the tropical climes they had been enjoying instead of being almost translucent from the lack of life. The lazy holiday lifestyle had set a few extra pounds around her frame helping her to fill lout her bikini properly, much to Nailer's approval. But most of all it was something that hovered between the physical and emotional; a sense of freedom that filtered through from inside of her to give her a kind of glow that she'd never had before, not even back when she was alive.

She tied the belt around her gown, slipped on her sandals and wandered through from the bathroom into her hotel suite which had become more or less a home over the past month. They'd travelled around a little bit, not stopping in one place for too long, just in case. Initially Victoria had most certainly spent every day in fear of being found and sent to prison but as the days passed she began to relax more and worry less. The sunshine and Nailer's laid-back nature both contributed to that.

She picked up her newspaper and tucked it under her arm, then picked up her keys and wandered casually down the corridor to the suite next door. With any luck her breakfast would already be waiting and so would Nailer.

"Nick?" she knocked gently against the door but there was no reply. That usually meant one of two things; he was either out on the balcony, resting his bowl of cereal on his knees with a cappuccino in one hand and orange juice, _no bits_, in the other or he was still in bed with his mouth open and a snore coming from within. She flipped the keys around and found the one to his suite, then slipped it into the lock and opened the door. _"Nick?"_

As she wandered in she could already see him through the double doors on the balcony. It made her smile and her stomach gave a little flutter. It was weird the way that she had fallen into something resembling a traditional relationship with Nailer. It hadn't been expected, that was for certain. He was about as far removed from her 'type' as possible. The wrong side of the law for one.

But there was something there. It felt familiar. It felt warm. It felt _fun_. It felt like safety.

They had their own lives; separate hotel suites, individual pursuits, but every morning Victoria would get up and shower and then spend the morning with him, either relaxing on the balcony with the British newspapers and an array of breakfast goodies or down on the beach, or sometimes by the pool. Then when afternoon arrived she would head off shopping or for a swim or any of the activities she'd developed an interest in while Nailer took a siesta, then they would meet up come the evening and spend the night downing a few drinks, checking out the local entertainment or just slinking back to the hotel and enjoying an evening of more carnal delights.

She shifted the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony, her head tilted with a warm smile playing across her lips. Her unexpected partner of sorts was sat half as expected. He was there in his boxers and robe, a half-finished cappuccino beside him but instead of balancing his breakfast on his lap a newspaper was spread out on his knees instead. He looked up as she approached.

"Hey," she smiled, "looks like it's another nice day." She noticed that Nailer's brow was furrowed with the kind of worry she wasn't used to seeing. His expression was strained and dark and he seemed to be constantly squirming in his seat. "What's wrong, Nick?" she frowned, "oh, not the squits again? I told you not to drink the water…"

Nailer shook his head.

"I'm the privatisation of the railways, Vicky."

Victoria hesitated.

"You're a what?"

"I'm the privatisation of the railways," Nailer said again.

"Sorry, Nick, I'm still in training with your metaphors. You're going to have to help me out with this one."

Nailer looked at her grimly.

"We come at the topic from different sides of the law, Vicks," he began, "but you can't deny that when I was running things there were far fewer deaths and complications."

"What do you mean?"

"Tainted drugs. Gang wars." Nailer sighed deeply and turned to face her properly. "My stuff was good. People trusted me."

Victoria sat down cautiously.

"Nick, you know I'm OK with your past," she began, "as long as I don't have to talk, think or hear about it…."

Nailer knew he had to cut to the chase.

"I'm out of the game. Things don't just stop. It's like when British Rail was disbanded. One rail network was replaced by a shitload of smaller, crappier ones." He scratched the side of his head. "Soon as I left the scene they all started bidding for my business. Get their own franchises. Grabbing a piece of the action. Some of them are good guys, I know them. They work by the same standards I set. But for every one of those there's an Arthur Layton or a Billy Hocker setting up shop." He looked at her grimly. And now come the takeover bids."

He gathered up and handed Victoria the paper which she took a little hesitantly. Her eyes scanned the front page, taking in the headline, the statements and the gruesome photograph. The horror of it was so great that she didn't take in all of the details, just enough to know what was making Nailer look as though someone had managed to sneak into the hotel and replace his boxers with barbed wire.

"Someone's picking off your men," she whispered. Her eyes rose to meet his. She'd never seen him looking like that before.

"They weren't just my men," he said, "this guy… Hawkins, he'd been with me since I began. He was doing very nicely for himself too. Heard from him once or twice since we departed the colder climes of the UK. He'd taken a chunk of the city, some of the old crew were there. He ran a clean patch."

"_Bludgeoned in bed,"_ Victoria whispered, "but… this is one man, right?"

Nailed sighed and shook his head.

"Didn't tell you, Vicks, but last week there was another one. Didn't know him so well but it still hit me. I didn't say anything because I don't like talking up my previous work to Lady Law." Victoria gave a little smile at the name he used for her now and then, "could have been a one off. But it was the same M.O."

"You are not qualified to use the term_ M.O.," _Victoria teased gently but the pained look on Nailer's face made her feel lost and helpless. "Shit… Nick, I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I wish there was something we could do, but…" she trailed off as his eyes flicked to her a little warily. "There… _is_… something we can do?" she started to feel anxious and shook her head, "Nick.."

"I know what you're thinking…"

"Nick, no, it's not a good idea."

"I know you're going to start getting anxious –"

"We got away from all that – you said we were just going to _live!"_

"- but I can't let this happen," Nailer continued, "not to more people who stood by me through thick and thin."

"It's not like we even know for certain that these incidents are connected," Victoria said urgently.

"There'll be more."

"There might not be."

"I've seen this before."

"Then let the police deal with it."

"I wouldn't trust your friend Mister Keats to protect a baked potato," Nailer told her, "let alone protect people who bring a delicious array of substances to the streets."

Victoria glanced away.

"Don't, Nick," she said quietly. She felt terribly uncomfortable whenever Nailer began to talk about his former wares, not just from a legal standpoint but on a personal level that she couldn't understand. It gave her a weird sense of deja vu and she couldn't seem to shake it.

A hand on her shoulder pushed her out of her thoughts and her gaze followed it up to Nailer's sincere expression.

"Vicky," he said firmly, "I've left that life behind. You _know_ that. And I'm not going back to it. But you've got to understand this was my whole way of life for _years_. These are people I saw every day for most of my life. And now someone is going around and cutting their promotion short." He leaned closer and took her hands. "These people were my mates. My friends. They weren't just people who came to me because they wanted to make a quick quid. They were people I used to meet at the pub in the evening, I used to play darts with them, I used to have a laugh. I didn't get to do as much of that as I should have done – I ran a serious business."

"And don't I know it," Victoria sighed. She looked at him warily. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?"

Nailer hesitated. He took a deep breath as he tried to work out what to tell her.

"I'm not jumping on the first flight home," he said, "and I'm not putting you in any danger. If – and this is a _big if_ – I find out for sure that someone's going around and culling my Christmas card list then I'll find a safe way of getting back to the UK and you'll be staying here, out of the heat. OK?"

Victoria stared him in the eye. He was being completely open and honest, his sincerity went far beyond most people she knew on the right side of the law. She opened her mouth to reply but seemed to cut herself off and change her statement.

"_No."_

Nailer seemed taken aback.

"Vicky, I –"

"I mean no, you're not leaving me behind," she told him severely, "as long as you stick to your word about not making any rash decisions and finding out for certain that this is more than a coincidence… and as long as you have a definite plan and not some half-cocked attempt at revenge… then you're taking me with you."

"No, Vicky –"

"You brought me here. I trusted you and you never let me down. Now trust me," she squeezed his hand back and looked him in the eye. "You and me. You already saved me from Keats. You gave me a new life. Let me help you now."

Nailer stared back. Her words were the last thing he'd been expecting and he wasn't sure what to say at first. He didn't want her putting herself in danger but he didn't want to be without her either, not even for a day. He'd become pretty damn attached. So had she.

He didn't say thank you. That would have meant that he'd accepted her request and he still wasn't sure that he wanted her to be at any risk. But he wrapped her in his strong grip and held her silently.

It was a strange and bewildering situation; ex-cop and escapee. But somehow…. Somehow, they needed each other.

Somehow, it just _worked_.


	6. Intermission 1

**Intermission 1**

"It's been almost a month since we last spoke, Alex."

"Has it really? Well doesn't time fly when you're having anything but fun?"

"And at our first appointment you told me that you were no longer engaged." The psychologist noticed Alex shuffling awkwardly, "but I do notice you're still wearing your engagement ring." She hesitated, watching Alex's anxious reaction. "Does this mean you are still engaged to your fiancé?"

Alex swallowed. That was a private matter but she knew the woman wasn't going to accept that as an excuse.

"I'm still wearing the ring," she began awkwardly, "because to break off an engagement that would mean that I would have to be talking to him."

"Are you not communicating well, Alex?"

"_Well?_ Try replacing 'well' with 'at all' and you just might come close to it."

"Communication has broken down between the two of you?"

"Not so much broken down as stopped like an exhausted elephant running a marathon."

"And what do you think is causing the difficulty between you both?"

"Do you mean aside from the fact that I'm still trying to close my eyes without seeing _that man_ looming towards me?"

"You are still holding Gene responsible for letting Jim Keats take you away?"

"Why shouldn't I? _Gene_ still does."

"There was no way that Gene – or yourself – could have known what was about to happen, Alex. Your fiancé made decisions based on the facts that were presented to you both at the time."

"Well that was the last decision he could be bothered making,"

"In what way?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm trying to help you, Alex. I do know that this is difficult to talk about –"

"And yet there you go, prising blood out of a stone, or trying to."

"We'll move on, Alex. If you are not ready to talk about your relationship then let's talk about your other difficulties."

Alex bristled.

"I'm not having difficulties."

"Your doctor has prescribed additional anti-depressants on top of your other medication and you already told me you were having difficulty sleeping."

"But I know that's normal. You forget that I'm a psychologist too. I could just sit with a mirror and give myself therapy."

"It's very interesting that you should say that."

Alex narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"Why, exactly?"

"Because mirrors are something you are having trouble dealing with."

Alex scowled.

"Big lumps of shiny glass," she mocked, "the scourge of society."

"I noticed that you deliberately sat beneath the mirror in the waiting room instead of facing it when you came in."

"I assure you my choice of seat was entirely random."

"And you've turned your seat slightly to avoid the mirror on the wall."

"You're criticising how I am sitting on a chair?" Alex asked crossly.

The psychologist tapped her pen on her pad.

"Alex," she said quietly, "you're wearing no make-up. Your hair is flat and unstyled. You're wearing a high-necked jumper on a warm summer's morning."

Alex swallowed and felt her breath shortening.

"I was going to an enforced therapy session, not to a night at the opera, I saw no need to dress up."

"I'm concerned that you are trying to hide yourself away as a result of what you've been through."

"And how many years of training did you go through to reach that conclusion?" Alex said coldly.

"Well you should know," the therapist threw back, "as you pointed out you _are_ a psychologist too."

Alex narrowed her eyes a little.

"Listen," she began crossly, "My relationship is fading. My job is on hold indefinitely. Kim won't even speak to me, let alone see me, I have nothing to make an effort for."

The therapist studied Alex. She looked at her notes. She looked back at her face. She tilted her head.

"And," she began, "who exactly is Kim?"

~xXx~

"No. She hasn't talked to me. Not more than to tell me I've left the toilet seat up. No, she's too busy brooding, blaming me, staring at the bloody clock and brooding over Metal flippin' Mickey."

The therapist did not understand why Gene was concerned about Alex brooding over a TFV show that hadn't been on since the 80s but she didn't ask.

"What have you tried doing to open up communication with her?" she asked.

Gene shrugged.

"Got me, Headcase."

"Have you tried to begin with topics that are less emotionally demanding for her? Mutual interests that you shared? Household issues?"

"Did yer ears close up temporarily? I said I didn't bloody know."

"You don't know what you've done to try to converse with your fiancée?" The psychologist frowned, confused.

"Listen Headcase, I don't even know if she's me fiancée any more." He felt awkward and shamed talking this way. He disapproved of therapy at the best of times but when he was the one receiving it the whole subject seemed a million times worse. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want _Alex_ to be there and he didn't want his _team_ to be there.

"Have you tried opening up a dialogue with Alex about your relationship?"

"Frankly, love, some days I'm lucky to get her to open the door for me." He folded his arms and leaned back. "You can stand down, Headcase," he said, "put yer marriage guidance hat away. Plain to see on her face I'm not gonna take her up the aisle. Topic comes up and she goes out the door. Anything to do with a wedding goes in the bloody rubbish. Even the catalogue of honeymoon lingerie." That was one of the parts that saddened Gene the most. "I think that's it for me. Knew I was

punching above me weight in the first place. Always waited for this day to come. But she's not gonna tell me that, and I'm not gonna ask."

The psychologist leaned forward slightly.

"There's something that puzzle me, Gene."

"I told you last time, that's DCI Hunt."

"It might help you to feel more at ease with these sessions if you allow yourself to become more open and familiar with me."

"That's a nice filing cabinet you've got yerself there. Be a shame if anything dented it. Like yer back."

The psychologist began to really hate her job.

"Alright, DCI Hunt," she said through gritted teeth before regaining her composure, "there is one thing puzzling me,"

"Just the one?" Gene mocked. "Easy bloody life _you've_ got."

"I've met you several times at the station and you've never been one to shy away from confrontation. In fact, you actively seek it out."

"Give that shrink a coconut."

"So it leaves me wondering why you've let things drag along with Alex instead of getting them out in the open."

Gene stared at her. She stared right back.

"What?"

"The Gene Hunt that puts the fear of god into cops and criminals country-wide would have pulled her up on her behaviour from the word go," the woman pointed out, "what has made you hold back?"

Gene carried on staring. His mind went blank and he felt a churning in his guts. Finally, he swallowed and blinked.

"I don't know, Headcase," he admitted quietly, "I don't bloody know."

~xXx~

"I don't know. I feel like I don't know anything at all. I'm the absolute bloody outsider."

Jake crossed his arms and shook his head despondently.

"You're relatively new to the area and to the team," the psychologist pointed out, "it's not unusual to feel that way."

"No, I don't mean like that," Jake said crossly, "it's not like being 'the new boy', it's…" he closed his eyes and let his breath out slowly. "It's like they've got some big secret they won't tell me."

"Who has?"

"The Guv," he began, "The Ma'am. Robin – _Chief Inspector Thomas_. I've noticed it before but since the night with the bombs and..." he opened his eyes again but wouldn't look her in the eye. "Two senior officers undergo a serious assault and abduction and yet the man responsible is not only still roaming free but still in place in his job. That… that makes no sense to me. Why would that be? I tried speaking to them about it. Charges were made by someone at Fenchurch West but they were dropped. I asked DCI Drake and she clammed up. I asked the Guv and he said it wasn't his decision and that even if it _was_ he'd only get it wrong. Which," his frown increased, "isn't like him either. He usually had no qualms about making everyone else's decisions for them as well as his own."

"You surely must know that some matters require you to be of a certain level of seniority to –"

"No, honestly, this is different," Jake didn't know how to get through to the woman, "it's making me feel paranoid. There's something going on and I don't like it. Something to do with that bastard at Fenchurch West and this –" his expression grew dark, "this new DCI there… who they apparently all know… some kind of wonder woman, they'd have you believe."

"You seem to be experiencing some resentment toward this figure."

Jake pretended to be very interested in the pressed creases in his trouser legs all of a sudden.

"She's not '_all that',"_ he said.

"So you've met her."

"Met her, helped her out, got scared by her, yeah."

"And does this wonderwoman have a name?"

Jake realised he was behaving like a spoilt brat. He shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "it's not important."

"It sounds like it is to you, Jake."

Jake shook his head slowly.

"I'm being ridiculous, he said quietly, "missing something I never had. Which you're not supposed to be able to do, are you?"

The psychologist laid down her pen.

"I think," she began, "that sometimes the old sayings are not always the most factually accurate things you can refer to."

Jake nodded slowly. He closed his eyes as he thought about the _almosts._

"Then," he said quietly, "that's my problem. I'm missing what I never had."

~xXx~

"Why can't I get over this?" Marci's voice was quiet as she spoke to the ground, "I can't miss something I never truly had."

The psychologist watched Marci as she slowly, absently ripped a tissue down the middle, watching all the tiny fibres escaping into the air.

"Actually," she began gently, "this is a matter that someone else has expressed to me just this morning. And I think you should be easier on yourself, Marci. You can miss the possibility as much as you can miss what it could have meant for your life."

Marci's eyes finally met the woman's.

"I just keep seeing it again and again, the two explosions, saving his life the first time…" she swallowed, "and then watching him lose it the second." She began to tear the tissue into further segments "I'm such a bitch," she closed her eyes briefly, "everyone thinks I'm so nicey-nicey… I try to be kind and put people at ease, even when they're in the cells for doing something that turns my stomach. But Eddie,…. I was _horrible_ to him. I didn't give him a chance. Not until it was too late anyweay."

"Fondness and affection can manifest in different ways."

"In our case it was like being on the playground."

"Some of the best partnerships are ones where you can banter."

"This wasn't banter, this was a full programme of mutual annoyance." Her heart sank, "but," she whispered, "I kind of enjoyed it. I guess I'd _had_ to to keep it going. And I think he did too." She stared at the tissue as she tore yet another strip. "And I guess I miss that too. Picking on him. Having him follow me round, teasing back and forth. Ever since I joined the station he was always there for me. When I'd had a hard day I knew he'd be there at the bar to buy a round and cheer me up with his rubbish chat-up lines." She shook her head, "and then my friend Shaz. Sharon. She works in the canine unit. She's always trying to help me because she thinks we have this in common. She lost her girlfriend last year. And I get that she wants to help but those two were in love. I have no idea what I would have had with Eddie. I don't know if we were going to be a fling or a friendship or forever."

"Perhaps it's the fact you will never truly know that you are grieving for," the psychologist said quietly.

Marci took a deep breath and began to tear down another strip of tissue.

"I just wish I knew how to lay it to rest," she whispered.

~xXx~

"The last time we spoke you were having difficulty dealing with your friend losing her – boyfriend?" the psychologist wasn't sure how to term Eddie's relationship with Marci, "because it was reminding you of your own loss."

Shaz closed her eyes and looked down.

"I don't want to talk about that," she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be disrespectful."

"it was affecting you quite severely last time."

"I'm sorry, but I'm doing better when I don't have to think about it or talk about it," Shaz said quietly.

"You've been trying to keep it under wraps for a very long time, Shaz. A year, isn't it?"

Shaz looked down and blinked away a tear.

"I thought I was dealing with it until this brought it back," Shaz told her, "I've been trying to help Marci but it's so hard when I know how long it takes to start moving past it."

"It sounds as though your relationship was a lot more serious than hers."

Shaz shrugged.

"Grief is grief," she said, "it doesn't always follow rules. She's devastated, miss. And all I can do is to listen."

"Maybe that's what she needs."

"But it's so hard getting her to talk."

"Then just be there waiting when she needs to."

Shaz nodded slowly.

"But what if I can't help her at all, miss?" she asked, "no one could help me_."_

"Then," the woman began, "give her the strength to help herself."

Shaz nodded slowly. She could only try.

~xXx~

"I don't know if she's strong enough to help herself," Robin closed his eyes, "She's trapped in that place, trying to protect us, and she's in danger."

"Robin, you won't tell me what you mean but you keep citing the fact that she's in danger. It sounds as though this is a matter for the police."

Robin gave a bitter laugh. The woman had no idea what she was saying.

"Yeah. Right."

"You seem to be fixated on your ex-girlfriend as a distraction from what you went through on election night."

Robin rolled his eyes.

"She is not my ex," he said crossly, "we just… can't be together right now."

"To me that sounds like you are no longer a couple."

"Then what do you know?" Robin hissed. He growled with frustration, more at himself than anything, "I'm sorry, I'm just… I don't want to _be_ here right now. My head is in a mess."

"Robin, that's _why_ you're here. You're here to talk about what you've been through. To help yourself to come to terms with it."

"What I've been through is nothing," Robin said quietly. He'd been through worse. "It's what I'm going through _now_ I can't handle." He closed his eyes as how mind added silently, '_heartbreak'_

~xXx~

"I don't want to break his heart," Alex said quietly, "and I don't want to feel this way. But I do." She swallowed, "I haven't stopped loving him. But I've stopped _trusting_ him. And that's almost as bad. My trust in Gene is sometimes the only thing that gets me through. If we don't have that then we just… have nothing at all."

"You know that Gene had to make decisions on the spur of the moment and he did only what he thought was best. He had no way of knowing what was about to happen."

"You see, you say that and it makes sense, it makes _perfect_ sense but I can't help blaming him." Alex shook her head. "Maybe because he's blaming _himself_. He's changed. Too much. His strength and self-assuredness have gone. He won't even decide whether to get a single or double latte any more in case he makes the wrong decision. He's not _Gene_… he's not my Gene any more."

"Perhaps he needs someone else to show confidence in him to help bring back his confidence in himself."

"I'm sorry…. I can't do that. He needs to look elsewhere for that."

"And where do your feelings for this… _Kim_… fit into the equation?"

Alex closed her eyes.

"They don't," she whispered.

"You just opened up about –"

"They don't because she's shut herself away from us," Alex whispered, "and she's never going to see or speak to us again." She shook her head slowly as she felt a little sick. "Gene couldn't help me. And I can't help her."

The world suddenly seemed a crueller place than even Alex had realised.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Please don't hate me for the angst – I know the beginning is dark but it does get brighter. Tissue warning for the next chapter.**_


	7. Chapter 5: The Parting of a Pair

**Chapter 5**

Alex's eyes followed Gene walk past her with giant latte from Latte Land and plonked his backside down on the couch. He didn't look at her, partly because he didn't want to and partly because he felt too scared to. He didn't want to see that scowl on her face, nor the blank expression that she wore too often these days. He was aware of some disgruntled noises coming from her direction though and knew that it wouldn't be long before he would have to turn around.

"Well _thank you_, Gene," the anger came out in his direction, "thank you for making it very plain how you feel about me right now. Thank you so kindly for getting me a coffee. Your thoughtfulness astounds me."

Very slowly Gene turned his head and faced her. His stare was cold.

"So they didn't ban it then," he said flatly.

Alex barely glanced at him but her face still registered a flicker of annoyance.

"Ban what?" she asked.

"Talking," said Gene, "because I've noticed you've been fazing it out." Spurred on by her haughty roll of the eyes and turn of the head Gene slammed his latte around and stepped in front of her. "Only, thing is, I've not learned to communicate telepathically yet. So yer latte request didn't get through. Next time try using that thing in the front of yer head. Those two lips." She still wouldn't meet his stare so he tried to shock her into communicating with him. "Got two lips somewhere _else_ if I recall," he said, "not that I'm going to see them this side of yer flipping millennium. They'll rust over before they come up for air again."

Well, _that_ just about did it. Gene had managed to press the button to set off a response in Alex. Unfortunately it was the most disgusted, angry response that he could have imagined. And what had he expected, really? Almost the second the words had left his mouth he regretted them but it was too late now. All he could do was to await the tirade of anger coming his way.

"I _hope_ I didn't hear that correctly," Alex got to her feet, her stare fixed on Gene the whole time, "I hope to _god_ that I didn't hear that correctly. Because even _you_, Gene Hunt, even _you_ should understand how cruel and unfair that comment is, considering what has happened."

Gene stared right back.

"At least I know me ears are still working," he said, "Thought I'd gone deaf. Fed up with the silent treatment, Bolly."

Alex shuddered and flinched.

"Don't call me that, Gene," she whispered.

"That's what I _call_ you."

"You have to stop."

"Why should I?"

"You know why."

"Sixteen years, Bols. I've been calling you that for sixteen _years_. You expect me to just accept one night can turn that name into something that makes you look like you're shoving a squid down yer pants?"

"Things don't work like that, Gene," Alex leaned forward angrily, "I don't want to hear that word any more."

"Funny, since I'd like to hear _any_ words from you, _ever_, Bols." He closed his eyes, _"Alex,"_ he corrected grudgingly. "This is the most you've said to me since the station went bang!"

"It's hard to know what to say to a string of self-pity," Alex told him haughtily.

"_Excuse_ me, Drake? Who's self-pity are we talking about here."

"_Yours!"_

"I've been bending over backwards to make you comfortable and you won't exchange the time o'day with me."

"Maybe I would if you could decide whether the little hand was closer to the two or the three!" Alex cried.

Gene stared back with a scowl

"I'd missed yer flapping yer lips but suddenly I'm missing the sound of silence," he cried, "what are you gabbling about?"

"I don't know what's _happened_ to you, Gene!" Alex cried, "you've turned from the self-proclaimed Manc Lion into a bloody _cowardly_ one instead."

Gene tried to square up to her but instead of holding firm his jaw seemed to waiver.

"Back away from that comment right now before I say something I'll regret," he said but there was no power behind his voice.

"You _see?"_ cried Alex, "what's _happened_ to you? You have no conviction any more, Gene! No belief in yourself. No belief in the things you're saying. There's not a chance in hell you would have let me get away with saying that not so long ago but now…"

He glowered as she trailed away.

"Well don't stop there, Bols, let's hear the rest of it."

Alex swallowed. She stared at him.

"You're weak," she whispered.

"I am, am I?"

She nodded.

"You've lost your balls."

"Just as well since you're bloody _kicking_ me in them while I'm already down!" Gene cried.

"What happened to _Gene Hunt, the name to be feared?"_ cried Alex, "you're supposed to be the _strong_ one! You're supposed to _protect_ me!"

"You've never needed my bloody protection and never wanted it either!"

"_I need it now!"_ her heart sank as she began to realise exactly what it was all about. Her pulse began to speed up as she hissed, "but just when I needed that the most, you've lost it." There was a lump in her throat. "You were supposed to keep me _safe_, Gene."

"I don't have a flaming crystal ball, Alex," Gene cried, "I didn't look into it that morning and think, _right, time for Tony Blair to ring the removal company, oh – and by the way, don't trust the paramedics to put yer better half in the right ambulance!"_

"You didn't come after me!"

"I left Simon to get his head bashed in by the bloody ceiling!" Gene hissed, "saved you over him. Had to stay with him while he went to hospital, Drake. You _told_ me to."

"Kim told you something was wrong!"

"I didn't trust Metal Mickey's psychic streak any more than I trusted me own!"

"And then when I needed you to be strong for me you've crumbled!"

"Treading thin ice," Gene warned.

"Why?" cried Alex, "because I'm making you angry? Or because I'm telling the truth?" she stared him in the eye, inches away from him, the tension between them rising to a level it hadn't been in years but finally Gene was the one to step away. He turned his head to one side so that he wouldn't have to look her in the face any more. "I needed you to be _strong_ for me!" she cried accusingly, "but you've been the weakest I've _ever_ seen you! This is worse than when Keats beat you to the ground. You back down from arguments, you won't look people in the eye, you can't even make your own bloody _decisions_ any more. I asked you what time you wanted me to set the alarm for and you said '_do what you want, I'll only sleep through it'._ I asked you what you wanted for dinner last night and you said '_pick what you want, if I pick it'll have bloody salmonella'._ Fletcher asked you to pick a colour for the walls in CID and you wouldn't even do _that_ because you said _you'd 'only pick something that would clash with the carpets_. I don't even know you any more. Who the hell are you, Gene?"

Gene stared at her, his eyes flickering slightly from side to side. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to say that he was the same Gene Genie she had always known and to put her in her place. He wanted to tell her that she couldn't be more wrong about him. But as he swallowed and realised that every word was true he just couldn't. It would have been a lie.

"Who the hell am I?" he said darkly. He shook his head slowly. "Someone who can't pick between _Burnt Magnolia_ an' Eggshell apparently."

Alex stared at him, wanting to see the Gene she knew and loved but there was something lacking in his stare. It was empty. Dark. _Dead_. She breathed in deeply as she felt shudders inside of her.

"We can't carry on living this way," she whispered, "One if us has to move out." She hesitated, waiting for him to react; praying that he would argue but he simply started. That made up her mind. "And I think it should be you."

Gene's expression was colder than she'd ever seen it.

"And why," he said quietly, "do you think it should be me?"

Alex bit her lip.

"Because you haven't argued against me," she whispered, "so how much can you really want to stray?"

The stare between them seemed to last an eternity; her desperate for him to say something, _him_ desperate for a viable excuse not to, but eventually they both knew neither was going to get what they wanted. Casting his eyes downwards Gene gave a solitary nod of his head,

"I'll go and pack," he said in a monotone voice.

Alex watched in shock as he walked away. In her head she was screaming after him, _'Fight for me, fight for me, Gene – show me you don't want to go –'_ but her mind was as far as her pleas went. Her vocal chords refused to pick up the challenge. Her desperate prayers went unspoken and her heart began to crumble. Her whole life was sliding away in front of her eyes and she had no way of stopping it.

~xXx~

Robin groaned, opened one eye and stared at the second half of the large chocolate cake still sitting on the coffee table. He was sprawled along the couch with the missing half of the cake already inside him. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. When he was stressed, he cooked, and so far in the month and a bit since Kim had been back in the world but refusing to see him he'd cooked 35 different pasta dishes, 13 pizzas, 9 soups, 7 casseroles plus two roasts a week. He had been single-handedly feeding the population of Fenchurch, or so it seemed. He had issued food at random to everyone at Fenchurch East, including the criminals.

He had decided to move onto desserts and his first sweet creation was simply a big _fuck-off sized_ chocolate cake. He wasn't big on baking sweet stuff as a whole so he sampled a slice when it cooled to check it was OK, but it had tasted so good that he'd gone for another and another. Eventually eight slices, half the cake, had been consumed and the next thing he knew his insides were swearing at him, leaving him bemoaning his lack of willpower on the coach.

When the knock sounded at the door he whimpered pathetically. Who the fuck was that? Could they not sense the '_bugger off'_ vibes he was trying to emit?

"_Go away,"_ he called half-heartedly.

"_Oi, Batman."_

Robin closed his eyes, groaning louder.

"God, what the hell do _you_ want?" he mumbled.

"_Open yer bloody door."_

"_Can't,"_ Robin called back pathetically, "I've been rendered helpless by five pounds of chocolate cake."

"_You need to get yer backside over here and open this lump of wood before I shove my shoulder through it."_

"The cake does not agree," Robin told him with a belch that would have been more familiar coming from Kim. He rolled lazily onto his side and frowned in the general direction of the hallway. "How the hell did you get up here anyway?" he asked, "why didn't you ring the buzzer?"

"_Still had me key,"_ Gene said matter-of-factly.

Robin muttered to himself. He'd completely forgotten that not so long ago the flat had been owned by Gene and Alex. He sighed and with a frown he asked,

"And you didn't keep the key to the front door?"

"Course I did."

"Then just let your bloody _self_ in!" Robin cried.

"_Didn't want to intrude on yer personal space!"_

"But you'll come in through the…." Robin closed his eyes as he simply gave up the fight. "Oh, what's the use?" he whimpered. He rolled off the couch and landed with a thump on his hands and knees, glaring at the cake as he got to his feet. "We'll settle this later," he told it, but the cake just stared back, looking a bit chocolaty but staying silent.

Robin slumped along to the door feeling somewhat sick and gluttonous. He opened the door, preparing to risk telling Gene to bugger off but hadn't expected to see him look quite so dejected.

"Evening, Batman," he said.

"Gene," Robin frowned a little, "What…. Why are you here?"

Gene shuffled and half-shoved his suitcase through the doorway.

"Thought you might be feeling a bit bored without Metal Mickey around."

"What's the suitcase for?" Robin asked suspiciously.

"Well _I_ use it for packing me clothes," Gene said sarcastically, "I head it's the approved use of the thing."

"No, I mean –"

"I know what you bloody mean, batman, don't make me say it."

Robin swallowed a little anxiously. He recalled a conversation he'd had with Alex a few weeks earlier. He'd known back then that things were not right between her and Gene but he had never expected them to escalate this far.

"Well," he didn't really know what to say. It wasn't as though he could send him away. "You'd better come in," he said eventually.

Gene nodded and shuffled through the door.

"I'd normally bother Simon for his couch but since he's…" Gene trailed away as he saw Robin looking as sad as the thought made _him_ feel.

"Sure," he said quietly. He waved his hand in the direction of the couch. "Feel free to take the sofa. Sorry about the crumbs."

Gene glanced at the cake on the table.

"You figured out the real reason for me visit," he bluffed, "heard there was a sponge going spare."

"Help yourself," Robin hiccupped as he eyed up the rest of the chocolaty mess, "just don't make me watch you eating. I've seen you in the canteen."

Gene felt somewhat disturbed and deeply saddened as he watched Robin set off to find him some blankets for the night. Just a few months earlier he and Alex had said goodbye to that flat and moved into their house together. It was supposed to have been the start of a new phase for them both. But instead of the bold new adventure they'd been expecting every day had been filled with doom and gloom.

Still he had never expected to hit such a low.

He eyed up the half a cake on the coffee table.

The half a cake eyed him back. It noted the deep depression buried in Gene's stare and realised its days were numbered.

As for Gene he would just have to hope that he could slip into a cake coma and drift back in time, to way before this horrible night. Life was spinning out of control and he didn't know how to stop it.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: No hate! Stick with it! Things get better! And be nice to me, I am sick!**_


	8. Chapter 6: The Splintering of a Soul

**Chapter 6**

Robin fought with the wall for elbow space on the tiny desk that he'd been jammed into in the corner of the cramped office. With a tiny section of the station declared safe and fit for purpose departments had been crammed in together and work conditions were less than satisfactory.

A Bonio landed on his desk. He laid down his pen with extreme prejudice, picked up the dog biscuit and looked around to find out who the culprit was but it could have been just about anyone. He threw out a random glare across the room and tossed the biscuit in the general direction of the bin.

He turned his attention back to the papers in front of him, scribbling his signature on a couple of forms, when his attention was broken by a bottle landing heavily on his desk. He jumped slightly and looked up, surprised to see Alex standing there, a weary smile on her face. Her hand was still resting on the top of the bottle, a slightly expensive looking brandy.

"For you," she said.

"What?" Robin blinked, not quite sure what was going on, "Why?"

"It's a thank you and an apology," she explained, "a thank you for taking Gene in," she paused for a moment, "and an apology that you even had to."

Robin's expression grew sad as he looked her in the eye.

"Alex," he said quietly. He didn't even know where he was going with that sentence. He breathed in deeply and looked at her haunted expression. "What happened? Between you and Gene?"

Alex's tongue ran around her dry lips nervously.

"Robin," she whispered, "I don't know."

"When we were talking the other week, I know things were bad but…" He shook his head as she slowly sank into a spare chair beside him. "You can't split up, Alex. You're Alex and Gene. You _are_ Fenchurch East."

"We're pulling each other apart," Alex said quietly, "we couldn't carry on that way."

Aside from the day they parted there had been no arguments, no angry showdowns – it was the coldness, the silence, the bitterness – that's what had been tearing them to pieces.

"I'm worried about you," Robin told her.

Alex didn't respond to that.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, looking a little like a sad girl asking about an injured animal.

Robin blew out his breath so hard he almost knocked papers from his desk.

"About as you'd expect," he said, "he's got nothing left." He saw her expression crumbling further and knew that this wasn't going to help Alex to find her own strength. If she was crippled with guilt then she was never going to recover her own fight and if she didn't do that she could never work on repairing her relationship. He pulled himself upright and tried to change the tone of the conversation. "Taken full command of my couch. _And_ the remotes, he thinks I'm going to make him watch wall-to-wall X-Files." At last Alex gave a tiny smile so Robin knew he was on the right track. "And the _snoring_…. Dear god, how on earth do you put _up_ with it? The walls aren't even paper thin or anything… but as soon as he falls asleep it's like there's a drill at work in my lounge."

Alex gave a distant smile.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Robin shrugged slightly.

"Hey, it's OK," he said quietly, "it's no problem. Apart from that it's fine. And finally I've got someone to cook for again so there's not a food mountain in my fridge."

"I bet he's enjoying that," Alex said quietly. She looked at Robin as his face started to fall a little. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Since you had someone to cook for." She knew that she was going to make him sad by bringing the subject up but she had to ask. "Robin, have you seen her? Or spoken to her?"

"Tried calling every fucking day, all times of the day and night," he said quietly, "I've thought about turning up at the station and marching in and demanding to see her, but..." he flinched, "after that night… and the thought of Keats…"

Alex felt quite sick as her own memories came back to her.

"I know," she whispered.

"And I don't even know where her office would be, or if she even _has_ one."

"I know."

"And I've tried finding her home address but…" Robin shook his head, "no one's been very forthcoming there either." He swallowed and looked Alex in the eye. "And I'm terrified for her."

Alex nodded very slowly, her own fears paralleling Robin's. She slipped her hand over his and squeezed it gently.

"That makes two of us," she said quietly.

Although Alex's own worries for Kim did nothing to calm Robin's fear, the fact that he had an ally and someone to talk to in Alex made him feel as though he wasn't alone. He smiled at her gratefully. Alex's friendship was one of the few things that had kept him going since he'd been thrown into the world. He felt a little like she was becoming the sister he'd never had.

"_Ma'am!"_ their hushed, anxious conversation came to an abrupt end as a frantic Jake rushed in their direction. Alex scrambled to her feet in alarm.

"_What? What?"_ she cried.

"You need to go to your office immediately!" Jake cried.

"Why?!"

"_Curtains!"_ Jake panted.

"Excuse me?" Alex frowned.

"Great big horrible _flowery_ things!" Jake cried, "they've bought the wrong kind! Instead of your blinds they're putting up something that looks like it's from my auntie Carol's living room!"

The thought of the floral monstrosities terrified Alex in ways she never thought possible.

"_Oh bloody hell_…" she cried as she scrambled away in the general direction of the ramshackle route through to what was left of her office, leaving Jake to stare awkwardly at Robin.

"Sir," he said politely with a nod.

Robin bit his lip. His mouth felt dry and his cheeks felt hot.

"Jake," he whispered as his heart gave a sudden thump, "do you think we could… maybe… _talk_… sometime," he knew he was starting to turn red. "No pressure… I just…"

Jake looked back awkwardly.

"I…. it's difficult… so busy," he mumbled. He swallowed and shuffled away from the desk. "Need to get back upstairs. Supervise. Sorry sir."

Robin stared at him, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Yeah," he said blankly, "of course you do. Sorry."

He watched him leave, closed his eyes and cursed. Six weeks since that fateful night and they still hadn't spoken about it. About _it_, or _anything_ for that matter. He felt his heart sinking in his chest.

Things were getting quieter in the cramped space now, with many officers and detectives heading off for lunch. This was probably as good an opportunity as any to make his daily, failed attempt at contacting Kim, he thought to himself. It was routine now. He didn't expect any of his calls to go through. But he couldn't give up trying because it was about the only thing he had left.

He lifted the receiver and banged out the number that he'd learned off by heart, pressed it to his ear and waited for the inevitable. After three rings it was answered.

"_Fenchurch West Police Station, CID_?" a voice said.

Robin almost sighed.

"I need to speak to DCI Stringer," He said.

"Hold for just one moment sir?" the voice said and Robin froze. That was new. Usually it was a case of '_can I take a message?_' or '_She isn't in the office right now'. _

"_You must be new here,"_ Robin mumbled to himself as his heart began to race and he awaited the response. A moment later the voice came back on the line.

"_She's actually on another call right now, would you like to hold?"_

Robin closed his eyes and drew in a fast breath. Did he? Did he want to hold, or…

He closed his eyes.

"No that's OK, I'll call back," he hissed as fast as he could and put down the phone. If she was on another call then that meant she was _there_, right there and then. Although he knew that she was probably there most of the time this was the closest he'd had to a case of confirmation. He could actually hear his pulse ringing in his ears. _This was it_. Something burst forth inside of him and the temptation he'd been trying to fight for the last 6 weeks overwhelmed him.

Before he could stop himself or think it through he scrambled to his feet, grasped his car keys and made his way from the building at great speed. This was it. This was the day.

_"This is the day I find you, Kim,"_ he whispered.

~xXx~

As soon as he pulled into the car park he saw it; the shiny yellow Fiat that had done the double in terms of time travelling. He swallowed hard and tried to calm his anxiety. His palms were sweating and he was shaking. _Great_, that was going to make a good impression.

He glanced at himself in the rear view mirror, smoothed his eyebrows, slicked his fringe to one side and wiped away a little bit of errant eyeliner that had smeared. He didn't have time to check his breath or clean his teeth but he supposed he would do for now.

He climbed out of the car and strode purposefully towards the station, throwing the door open and attempting to walk past the desk but the officer in duty wasn't going to allow that.

"Excuse me?" she called, "_Sir_?" Robin carried on walking but heard her say a word that finally stopped him in his tracks. "_Security!"_

Before he could react Robin found a large, burly guard positioned right in front of him. It looked rather like he imagined Geoff would look in a suit.

"_Can we help you, sir?" _he asked in a deep voice.

Robin tried not to squeak out his reply.

"I'm here to see DCI Kim Stringer."

"And she's expecting you, is she?"

"No," another voice interrupted, "but _I_ am."

With his heart almost stopping dead in his chest, Robin spun around and faced the most evil of eyes.

"_Oh shit."_

"I don't remember inviting you into my station," Keats sneered.

Robin swallowed but tried to stay strong.

"Funny that," he hissed, "since a few weeks ago I didn't remember _accepting_ an invite, but I ended up here anyway."

"And you enjoyed it so much you're back again," Keats folded his arms and Robin ,mirrored his behaviour as he pulled together his courage.

"Where's Kim?" he demanded.

"Kimberley is being kept busy by her duties," Keats told him, taking a threatening step forward.

"Kim must have five minutes to see me," Robin told him.

"You are intruding on private property, and at a rival station," Keats told him, "the only member of staff you will be seeing is whatever poor plod gets stuck interviewing you for trespassing."

"You'd better not have hurt her," Robin hissed furiously but Keats merely turned to the guard.

"Please see Chief Inspector Thomas from the premises," he said and before Robin knew what was happening his uniform was grasped firmly by the Geoff-a-like and he found himself pushed squarely in the direction of the doors.

"_Hey! Watch it!"_ he cried as he struggled and squirmed in the man's grip. Even with his regular visits to the gym Robin couldn't get the better of his bulk.

Keats followed as the guard shoved Robin halfway across the car park, like he was putting the cat out for the night.

"Stay out of my station and stay away from Kimberley," he hissed.

Robin scrambled a little to stay on his feet.

"It won't be yours for much longer," he cried, "after what you did to me "

"Charges didn't stick." Keats said matter-of-facytly and Robin froze.

"What?"

"Oh dear, has no one told you?" Keats smiled pleasantly, "my station dropped those ridiculous charges against me."

"You tied me up and _beat_ me!" Robin cried "you raped _Alex!"_

"No witnesses," Keats told him.

"Kim."

"Her word was not as strong as her boots," Keats sneered, "nothing inside these four walls will ever stand against me. You should know that by now."

"Then I'll see to it that the charges come from Fenchurch East," Robin hissed.

"Should have done already," Keats smiled slyly, "I heard on the grapevine that a certain DCI attempted to get your _Guv_ to press charges again me. But he seems to have ignored that message."

Robin tried to stare him down. He shook with anger as his tongue ran around his lips.

"The grapevine," he repeated, "this _grapevine_… would that be a bug on Kim's phone by any chance?"

Keats merely shrugged.

"It happens," he said

Robin swallowed.

"That's how you knew I was coming," he whispered, "isn't it? You've got the phone tapped. You guessed that I would come and find her when I knew she was on the premises."

"Or maybe you're just predicable, Robin," Keats smiled.

Robin glared right at him, then turned to the building. He stared at it, trying to work out where Kim might be. He knew that Keats had his own office where Gene's was, and if the rest of the layout of the station had been stolen expressly from Fenchurch East then perhaps Kim's was where Alex's office would be, or Simon's. If so then there was a good chance her window would oversee the car park and then there was a fair chance that she…

Without stopping to think Robin ran back to his car and yanked open the door.

"Oh, leaving already?" Keats smirked as he followed him, "that's a shame. I thought we could reminisce over old times. Like the ones where you were unconscious in the back of an ambulance."

Robin didn't bat an eyelid. He reached into his car, pressed his hand down continuously on the horn and set forth a long, almost never-ending beep.

"Kim!" he yelled out as he began to press the horn in pulses, _"Kim!"_

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" cried Keats, grabbing Robin's arm and yanking him away but Robin's strength was greater and he used Keats' own momentum to throw him sideways. He stumbled backwards against the side of another car setting off an alarm which rang out in time with Robin's cries as he returned to his car.

"_Kim!"_ he screamed, beeping his horn again.

His eyes scanned the windows, trying to work out which one she might see him from but her attention had already been caught by the first set of beeps and with a breathy cry of, "_what the fuck is that idiot doing?"_ she was already on her way.

Robin felt like he was going to pass out as he saw her rush out of the main doors. He stopped honking the horn and ignored the car alarm as he straightened up and ran to her.

"_Kim,"_ he cried but as he held his arms out toward her she stopped running and backed right up.

_"You bloody fool!"_ she cried, "get the _fuck_ out of here, Robin!"

"Kim, I need to see you!" Robin cried.

"Have I been wasting my fucking time?" cried Kim, her eyes wide, emotional and full of panic, "I'm trying to _protect_ you. Get _out_ of here!"

"I need to see you, I need to talk to you," Robin cried, running towards her again. He out his arms around her but she fought him off, pushing him hard.

"Go back to Fenchurch East," she cried.

"Not without you."

"I don't work there," Kim cried, "I work _here_. Get that into your head, Robin. Leave me alone."

"Kim…"

"_Stop calling me_," she cried, "stop trying to _talk_ to me, and never come here again."

"I know what you did to get here," Robin swallowed as he reached for her hands, "I know what you had to do to get to this place, Kim… I'm so sorry… but now that you're here there has to be a way out of this station…"

"I _can't_ leave this station," Kim cried shaking Robin's hands from her own, "I have to stay here. I _have_ to, otherwise what he did to you and Alex is only the start."

"I don't _understand!"_ Robin shook his head, "Kim, things are falling _apart!_ The station's in bits, Simon's still unconscious, Gene's gone to pieces and Alex is fading away."

"Alex?" her name made Kim stop for a moment.

"Yes, _Alex,"_ Robin looked at her darkly, "she needs you too. We all need you."

Kim's heart physically ached and her stomach churned horribly but she had to stay firm.

"I have a job to do," she hissed, "and it's here."

"You belong with _me!"_ Robin cried.

"You heard the DCI," Keats began in amusement but Robin wasn't in the mood.

"Oh, just _fuck_ off," he cried as he grasped Keats by the collar and prepared to aim a fist at his face but Kim held him back.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ end up charged here, Robin!" she cried, "you really want to end up locked in a cell with Keats bringing you your meals three times a day?"

"Kim, I don't give a _fuck,"_ cried Robin, "at least I'd be nearer to you."

"You'll still be worlds apart, Robin!" Kim cried.

"Then leave here and come with me!"

"I don't _want_ to come with you!"

"I can try to –"

"Why aren't you _listening_ to me, Robin?" cried Kim, "I don't want to be with you, alright?" she pulled away as he tried to wrap his arms around her,_ "we're over."_

Those words struck Robin like a blow to the head and a bullet in the heart as he stared at her, feeling certain that he'd misheard. He felt his stomach make a motion that almost sent him hurtling for the bathroom.

"_What?"_ that was the only word that he could force out.

"We're over, Robin," Kim's voice was a little quieter but shaken as she looked him in the eye, "I don't want to be with you any more."

Robin shook his head. He took a step backwards as his legs weakened beneath him.

"You don't mean that," he whispered.

"We were never going to work," Kim cried, "you _know_ that. We were just a fling –"

"Kim, no –"

"You know full well I'm not your type –"

"_You_ know full well you _are_.

"And you're not mine."

"That's not what you said for eight fantastic months."

"It's _over_, Robin, we should never have been together and you _know_ it!"

"No, Kim, we should never have been _apart!"_ Robin screamed so frantically that he almost spat with every word. He panted for breath, desperate and devastated as he stared at her flat expression. She began to back away.

"Get out of the station and out of my_ life," _she told him, desperately gasping back tears, "_goodbye, Robin."_

"_Kim –"_ he grasped her arm but she spun around and delivered a hard slap to his face.

"_Goodbye!"_ she cried.

Shocked into stillness and silence, Robin stared after her as Kim ran into the building. His heart felt as though it was going to stop beating forever. He'd never felt such pain in his life. He staggered backwards, oblivious to the jeering smile of Keats as he first absorbed the blissful moment and then ran after Kim. There was nothing that Robin could say or do. He was frozen and numb. His world had fallen apart around him.

His body had perished months ago. Now, his soul just about did the same.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Again, please don't hurt me! I promise things get better! …Not in the next chapter though *hides* Also, thanks for your thoughts to the anon review who asked after my baby – she's doing amazingly, she's 6 months now and definitely living up to her namesake for her determination! Thank you :)**_

_**Heads up; from Thursday updates on this fic will likely slow down because I'm participating in NaNoWriMo again. Last year I took NaNo as an opportunity to let Robin and Kim run with their own lives and they pretty much never stopped. This year I am focusing on two of my other original characters; Victoria Stone and Nick Nailer.**_

_**While dead Victoria and 1997 Nailer are busy living it up in sunnier climes, my NaNoWriMo novel focuses on Victoria in her undercover role, getting close to Nailer and becoming mixed up in the dark side of his world. I have always known in my head the full story of her involvement and how things progressed between them but now I'm actually going to flesh it out as a story by itself.**_

_**Because of the nature of how Victoria's life in the real world interlaced with my fics there will be appearances from other familiar characters; Simon, Robin, DI March, DS Fullerton, DCI Huston, Cassandra and so on.**_

_**I'll be starting the story on my Fictionpress account, linked from my profile, on Thursday 1**__**st**__** November and if you've followed my fics and know Victoria and Nailer I would really love you to read!**_

_**Wish me luck!**_


	9. Chapter 7: The Descent of Darkness

**Chapter 7**

The words she'd said seven days ago ran through Kim's mind on a continuous loop. They never stopped. They haunted her dreams at night and occupied her waking thoughts all through the day. She thought about little else but the look on Robin's face as she'd forced herself to spew the cruellest of lies just to get him away from that god-awful place. She was working so hard to protect him, to protect _all_ of them, that she couldn't let Robin's noble words and brave intentions spoil the work that she had done. There was no way out for Kim anyway, she'd sealed her fate when she jumped from the building. Now she had to keep Robin and the others as far from Fenchurch West as she possibly could.

However drastic the steps.

But she cried daily when she thought about the terrible things she had said and the horrified look on Robin's face as she turned and walked away. She remembered the slap; it was the most horrible part of it. She had never wanted to show any form of violence to Robin, however mild. She regretted it every moment of every day.

With a horrid shudder she realised it had not been the only piece of violence she'd committed in the past week.

She closed her eyes and swallowed, laying down her pen and taking a few deep breaths. There were things on the edge of her conscious knowledge that she tried desperately to fight away. She was aware of the ways in which her behaviour had slowly changed in the seven weeks or so since she'd become a part of Fenchurch West. It had been almost imperceptible at first; a few headaches, shallow sleep that she struggled to garner, a sharp tongue even for her.

But then as time went on she found herself struggling increasingly with thoughts and compulsions that seemed to come from nowhere. She found herself using spiteful words to get what she wanted then immediately regretted them, turning them into a joke or apologising like crazy. She felt herself lashing out towards both people and objects. She didn't know what was happening but it terrified her and took every last drop of her energy to fight.

She stared at her hands. They seemed to have developed a mind of their own. Moments after she'd told Robin to leave and slapped his face Keats had followed her back into the station, practically beaming with delight. Happily telling her that this was just the beginning, that he'd have glorious dreams forever about that moment and that he was going to have stills from the CCTV footage framed he'd finally pushed her over the edge when he dated to suggest that the _'best man won'._

So angered was she by his words that without conscious thought being involved she'd spun on her toes and her balled-up fist made hard and near-instant contact with his eye. The agonised howl of surprise as he reeled backwards from the blow, striking his head against the wall along the way, was delicious and Kim couldn't argue that it had been a long time coming but the fact that she'd punched without even thinking, that a nasty and violent option had been the first one in line, truly scared her.

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small bottle of scotch but as she stared at it she gave a sigh. That was another thing. Alcohol didn't seem to do anything for her any more. It had faded away slowly, the feeling of numbness that used to overtake her brain and her body when she'd been supping the scotch. Soon she felt nothing, no matter how much she was drinking. The withdrawal effects when she had gone a while without alcohol had all but stopped too. No longer did she tremble and shake. It was as though alcohol simply had no effect on her any longer.

She didn't like that. She wanted an escape. _Needed_ one. If she didn't have alcohol then what was left? She tried to remember a time she had ever seen Keats drunk. Had she ever? She'd seen him _drinking_, yes, but actually becoming inebriated? She wasn't sure she ever had.

"_Fuck,"_ she hissed as she dropped the bottle back in the drawer and slammed it shut. There was no point drinking if it wasn't going to do anything. Was it the darkness that blocked out the effect? That was something to consider. And if alcohol had no effect on Keats either then could that explain why he could turn on the gas and air for his victims without being affected himself?

"Ma'am?"

"_What?"_ she hissed angrily as the door opened slightly and Dillion poked his head around the corner.

He seemed startled and drew back momentarily.

"Uh… sorry, ma'am," he said apologetically.

Kim took a deep breath and tried to cool down a little. She had no idea why she had reacted that way to a simple word at the door. It wasn't as though he was interrupting anything important.

"What is it, Dillion?" she asked, trying to sound calm and fine but unable to remove the edge from her voice completely.

"You're, uh," he shuffled nervously, "missing the briefing, Ma'am. DCI Keats would like to know if you're planning to put in an appearance."

Kim closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. She'd forgotten about the briefing completely, instead spending the morning brooding miserably. She glanced at the clock and saw the time was getting on for half past eleven. _Shit_, she really was late.

"_Fine,"_ she mumbled, getting to her feet and snatching up a file and a pen. The last thing she needed was to be in the same room as Keats that day.

~xXx~

She had already expected his glare as she walked into CID. That wasn't a surprise. She glared right back at him, keeping her expression as stern and cold as she was able. She noted a slightly greenish-blue tone around the side of his eye where the bruising had almost, but not quite, faded from the visit that her fist paid to his face.

"DCI Stringer," he stared at her stonily, "nice to see you putting in an appearance."

Kim stiffened at the mere sound of that voice.

"Nice that you can 'see' anything at all," she commented with one eyebrow raised, a tiny smirk arriving on her face as she looked at his black eye again.

Keats turned up how glare by a notch, almost shaking with anger but he said nothing. Instead he turned back to the rest of CID.

"DS Lowry, please recap for DCI Stringer," he said, his eyes flicking back to her for just a moment, "now that she's made an effort to get out of bed."

Kim ignored him completely. She focused on Lowry instead as she began;

"Carly Spooner, twenty eight years of age, one of Nailer's very few female associates. Works the colleges and universities. Does the street work herself rather than getting a lackey to do the leg work. Worked out well for her too, took a bigger level of trust as well as more of the the takings." She paused for long enough to pin a rather gruesome-looking photograph to the board. "House fire two days ago. Burnt alive."

"Very sorry she forgot to put her candles out but what's this got to do with us?" Kim asked, flinching as she realised how rude she sounded. _Fuck_, what was the _matter_ with her?

"Bedroom door was locked from the outside," DS Lowry told her, "building used to be a student property. Flat share. The bedroom doors had bolts on the inside and hooks for padlocks on the outside."

Kim nodded slowly. Now she understood.

"Another of Nailer's buddy pals," she said quietly.

"Spooner naturally took the patch she'd been working when Nailer was put out of commission," Lowry told her, "although there are mutterings that she was working as a front for someone higher up. She liked the social side, didn't want to deal with the business side."

"And evidence connecting this to the other attacks?" Kim asked.

"Different MO but the Nailer connection is there," Lowry told her, "and a partial print was pulled from the padlock that matched one left on the frame of Hawkins' bedroom window."

"Is there no info coming in about this from our usual sources?" Kim frowned.

"My snout says the information is out of his league," Dillion told her, "there are whispers but they go way beyond his level."

"Right," Kim bit her lip and nodded slowly, "tell him to keep his ear to the ground. Anything he can give us will be useful."

"Thank you for reiterating the advice I've already dished out," Keats folded his arms.

Kim turned to him with a stony glare.

"No problem," she hissed sarcastically.

"We're trying to play the connection down, ma'am," A young DC volunteered, "the detail about the door has been kept out of the public domain for now but it's bound to come out next week. If we've made no progress by then there's going to be an appeal for information on Crimewatch."

"Bugger, that's all we need," Kim mumbled. "Alright, we need to take a new approach, forget old sources. We need to put someone out there. A new face on the scene might have more chance of infiltrating certain circles than old faces that have already proven untrustworthy."

Keats gave a single mocking laugh which gained everyone's attention.

"Do you have something to contribute, DCI Keats?" she crossed her arms and stared icily in his direction.

"Oh, nothing," he said, "just wondering where you're going to rake up someone to send undercover at short notice? The local _convenience and undercover cop_ store?"

Kim closed her eyes and shook her head crossly.

"It doesn't have to be a major operation, we just need someone to get out there and mix, keep one ear to the ground," she said. She cast her eye over the detectives in the room. One face stood out; a young DC, Kara Hanid. She was slightly feisty, not really a traditional detective, and took a little after Kim's own style. _Perfect_. She dismissed the rest of the team to go about their duties and called Kara back but noticed Keats lurking around the doorway like a nasty smell wafting from an old pair of trainers. She turned her glare on him and nodded toward the door.

She didn't expect him to actually leave.

Nether did he.

But her stare turned him cold and with a shudder like he'd never felt before he walked hurriedly from the room.

Kim found that strange. She blinked and took a deep breath, then put Keats out of her mind as she approached Kara.

"DC Hanid," she began, "you're a new face to the station and you have definite potential for branching out."

Kara looked a little wary.

"Branching out in what way?" she asked.

"How would you feel about spending a couple of days undercover?" Kim asked, "getting out there and seeing if there's any information going."

Kara grew visibly anxious. She seemed to withdraw a little and despite her bold exterior her inner insecurities started to show through.

"Ma'am, I don't think I'm the right person for the job." She said.

"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think you were."

Kara started to fiddle with the buttons on her jacket.

"I've had no training," she said.

"You're a fast learner, you'll learn on your feet," Kim told her.

"No, ma'am, I don't feel comfortable doing this," Kara said nervously.

"We need someone to be out there, our normal sources aren't bringing in the details we want."

"I already have a snout connected, I might be known."

"Not if you've been discrete."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, it's a no," Kara said firmly and Kim took a step back. As she swallowed a mix of feelings surged around inside of her, choking her heart, muffling her mind. There was an instance of guilt – why had she been so hard on the girl? But above that was an anger that wasn't natural to Kim. How _dare_ she refuse? How _dare_ she go against her superior? She felt a terrible dark sensation filling her chest and filtering up to her mind where it overcame her conscious thought and burned like fire around her eyes as she fixed Kara in her stare.

"_Come on, Kara_," she said in a voice that sounded little like her usual tone, "_just think about it."_ She felt herself heating up, as though her body was on fire and her mind wasn't far behind. She stared deep into Kara's eyes and felt as though she reached deep inside her and hooked a finger around her soul. She saw Kara weaken and wobble, swallowing nervously .

"I'm sorry –" she began but her words were faint.

"_Just think about it, Kara,"_ Kim stared right into her eyes, "I think you would be perfect. I can really see," she leaned a little closer," _your potential."_

She felt herself reaching into Kara's mind, rearranging her thoughts, bending her will, scrambling her mind -

The way her own mind had been scrambled -

The way that Keats had manipulated her -

The way –

"_Oh god!"_

In an instant Kim drew back, her drawn hand to her mouth in horror and revulsion. She could see it on Kara's face; the slight dizziness, the strangeness, the disorientation. It was a familiar sensation to Kim. It was one she'd been put through many times over, all those years ago.

"Fuck!"

She saw Kara trying to stir from her strange haze; blinking, shaking her head. Kim had never felt so disgusted with herself, not in her life. She gasped in a deep breath and cried;

_"I'm sorry… Kara, I'm sorry_… of course you don't have to do anything you don't want to do… not at all, honestly… I'll… we'll find someone else…" she grasped Kara's shoulders to shift her out of the way and hurried to the door as thoughts churned wildly through her head.

Her legs took her hurriedly to the bathroom where she rushed into a stall and heaved violently over the toilet but she'd eaten nothing since the night before so there was nothing to vomit. When her stomach calmed a little but her head still screamed at her she stumbled out of the toilets and pushed her way through the corridor to her office, slammed the door and snatched up the phone. She hammered out a number and listened to Gene's familiar message before screaming down the line,

"I told you to fucking _charge him!_ Why the _hell_ has no one pulled him _in_ yet? You've let me down, Guv! _You've fucking let me down!"_

Slamming down the receiver she found her body giving up and she slumped to the floor where she collapsed against the leg of her desk, succumbing to loud, explosive sobs that racked her chest and sent screeds of hot tears down her face.

The darkness was getting so hard to fight.

Soon her heart was going to be as black as Keats's and there seemed to be nothing she could do to fight the dark.

_**~xXx~**_

_**Happy Halloween!**_


	10. Chapter 8: The Start of the Safari

**Chapter 8**

Victoria could tell that something was wrong as soon as she watched Nailer striding toward the pool with a newspaper tucked under his arm. His shades might have hidden his eyes but his worry was plain to see on the rest of his face. She swam to the side of the pool as he approached and crouched beside the edge to talk to her.

"Nick?" she said, "What's the matter?"

Nailer stared back at her, not sure for a moment whether he even wanted to tell her. He knew exactly what she was going to say as soon as he opened his mouth. He didn't want to get into an argument with her. That was the _last_ thing he wanted. But he knew that she wasn't going to be pleased with the solo journey he had planned.

"I've," he paused long enough to scratch his rough chin with his fingertips. He hadn't even bothered to shave yet. It was supposed to have been a relaxing, leisurely day but that went down the drain as soon as he picked up the British papers. "I've lost another one," he said.

For a moment Victoria thought that he meant shirt. The Spanish dry cleaning services had not been their friend. But as he opened the paper in front of her she quickly realised the situation was a lot more serious.

"Oh _Nick_," she said quietly, "she was –"

"One of my best," Nailer said quietly, "I knew her father, see. He was into more stuff than I _ever_ was. But it got to him in the end and when he died I always kept an eye on her for him. She was good at what she did. And loyal. Fucking loyal." He bowed his head, trying to hold back the emotions that he didn't want to show. He hated displaying any sign of weakness. It was rare for him to be seen without a smile on his face. Victoria could tell from the look he wore how serious this was.

"Last month," she said quietly as the cool water lapped around her shoulders, "when the others…" she paused and looked at him seriously, "you said…" Nailer nodded before she could ask anything more. "You're still planning…"

"Got to, Vicky," Nailer told her, "can't sit sunning my arse out here when all the men and women who did me the greatest service are being picked off one at a time."

Victoria stared at him, instantly feeling scared of the implications.

"Getting out here was risky enough," she said quietly, "going back… you'll be caught, and sent back to jail, and –"

"Vicky, calm down," Nailer shook his head, "none of that is going to happen. It's cool. It's all cool. I have everything I need. I can slip through unnoticed, just like we did to get here."

Victoria stared at him. She wanted to believe that but she couldn't help worrying. She had become far more attached to Nailer than she ever thought she could. In fact, she felt closer and more attached to him than she had ever felt to another person. She didn't want to be left behind and she didn't want to go through this alone. She hauled herself up the steps and climbed out of the pool, standing before him, dripping, skin glistening in the sun.

"Then," she said, "make sure you get _two_ tickets home."

Nailer hesitated. This was exactly what he had been dreading.

"Vicky," he began.

"Don't tell me no."

"This is _my_ job, Vicky."

"You're not leaving me out here by myself."

"You'll be fine!"

"But _you_ might not be."

"I can take care of myself. I do wear long trousers now. I'll be fine."

Victoria shook her head.

"After everything we have been through," she said quietly, "you think I'm going to stand at the airport and calmly wave you goodbye?" she shook her head, "Nope. No way."

"I don't want you in any danger, Vicks," Nailer said quietly.

Victoria stooped down and picked up her towel which she wrapped around her shoulders. She pulled it tight around her body as she looked at him seriously.

"You said there was no danger," she reminded him.

"For me, no. For _you_–"

"You handed me the gun while we sat waiting for Layton," Victoria reminded him, "you had faith in me then. What's changed?"

Nailer let out his breath.

"Oh, Vicky," he sighed, laying his hands against her shoulders, "losing faith in you? That's not something I'm ever gonna do. But this isn't going to be like trapping a lame rat like Layton. This is going to be like trapping a fucking tiger instead."

"I'm ready to head on safari, Nick."

"I can't put you at risk."

"Why not?"

"You're an ex copper! If we get caught and you get sent down your life will be a living nightmare."

"You said we won't get caught."

"I said _I_ won't get caught."

"The difference being…?"

"We'll be more conspicuous if we travel together. If I slip away on my own no one will bat an eyelid. You and me together? Someone's going to notice."

"I'll wear a damn wig and you can shave your head."

"Don't think having a makeover is going to help!"

Victoria looked him right in the eye. She had never felt more determined in all her life.

"You saved me from hell," she told him, "now let me help you." She nodded determinedly. "It's time to settle my debt."

"You have no debt to me, Vicks."

"I do in my head," Victoria told him, "I want to come with you, Nick. Two tickets. Two passports. Two bags of duty free." She took in a deep, calming breath, "and two of us standing side by side, ready to trap the tiger."

Nailer stared back at her. He had never seen her looking so determined before, even for Victoria. He wanted to keep her well away from the potential danger and from a life that he knew she would never be comfortable with. But he didn't want to be apart from her. And somehow, with Victoria by his side he couldn't help but feel stronger.

"In that case," he said, "let's go on safari," he nodded, "the tiger is for the taking."

~xXx~

You couldn't even tell it was a wig; only if you looked very closely and were specifically looking for it. The black bob suited Victoria better than she could have ever expected it to. She'd never seen herself with anything other than her long, red hair. The new look was quite a revelation to her.

She glanced at herself in the reflection in the window as she walked through the departure lounge and made her way into the tunnel to the plane.

She checked the seat number on her boarding pass as she handed it to the flight attendant who smiled and directed her into first class. Victoria smiled back, her dark red lipstick a far richer tone than she usually wore and her shades hiding the nerves in her eyes. She counted her way down the aisle until she found her seat and slipped into it, making a conscious effort to ignore the man in the seat by her side. She gave a sly smile, knowing that he would catch it sideways-on and could just about see him smiling back.

"Well fancy meeting you here," he said quietly.

Victoria smiled away to herself as she pretended to introduce herself under whatever name her passport showed that particular day and Nailer did the same. Their play acting was all a part of the game. They even considered joining the Mile High Club until Nailer realised that the sink could get lodged in a very delicate place.

By the time they landed they were altogether more serious and knew that the hard part was about to begin. Back on English soil and ready to fight for the safety of those who'd served Nailer well, they knew that a daunting task lay ahead, but they would succeed because they were together, and somehow when they were together grand things happened.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Speaking of these two…. I began my NaNoWriMo novel yesterday. I would love some readers and support to get this thing done! The prologue is up on my Fictionpress account and there is a link on my profile here. If you can't get the link for whatever reason PM me!**_


	11. Intermission 2

**Intermission 2**

"The last time we met you were still having difficulty communicating with Gene and were reassessing your relationship." The psychologist waited for Alex to respond but predictably she stayed silent, "I'm aware that Gene updated his address details when he arrived for his appointment."

Alex wished the woman would just spit it out. She was sure that _she_ wasn't _quite_ that annoying. She felt fairly certain that she didn't string things out as severely.

"If you are asking whether Gene has moved out," she began slowly, "then yes, he has."

The woman nodded.

"And whose idea was that?"

"Well it wasn't going to be his, was it?"

"Why not, Alex?"

"Because Gene is completely devoid of ideas these days."

"So it was your decision to separate?"

"We're living separately. That's not quite the same thing."

"But you had been thinking of breaking off your engagement?" The therapist paused as Alex hung her head a little. "your ring is still on your finger. What does that mean?"

Alex swallowed.

"It means," she said stiffly, "that I am so used to wearing it that I must have forgotten to offer to hand it back."

"How has communication been between the two of you since Gene moved out?" Once again Alex failed to respond. She didn't speak, didn't look at the woman, didn't move a muscle. The psychologist unfolded her legs, sat up a little straighter and looked at her seriously. "Alex," she said quietly, "in my opinion it looks as though you may be depressed –"

Alex gave a sudden, sarcastic, explosive laugh which accompanied a bitter, angry smile.

"You think I _may_ be _depressed?"_ she continued to laugh, "well really, I can see your skills improving before my very eyes."

"It may be time for you to consult your doctor and review your prescriptions," the woman told her, "it doesn't seem that the medication you're on presently is doing what it's supposed to."

"And what exactly is the medication supposed to do?" Alex asked, an edge to her voice.

The psychologist knew that Alex already knew the answer all too well but patiently she responded;

"To help you to even out your mood. To help you to function more normally day-to-day, help you to sleep and get enough rest. Help to stabilise you while you begin to come to terms with what you have been through."

"Tell me," Alex began, "can these pills take away the images stuck in my head? Can they take me back to election night and send me home half an hour before the devices triggered? Can they…. Sneak into Fenchurch West and slice off Jim Keats's balls in a slow and agonising fashion?"

The psychologist did her best not to sigh.

"They're not a miracle cure, Alex. They are there to help you while you work through your issues, not to take them away."

"Then," Alex said quietly, "I may as well be flushing them down the toilet for all the good they are doing me."

The psychologist ignored Alex's stubborn rudeness.

"You are becoming increasingly withdrawn, Alex. You are avoiding work, you're avoiding the need to communicate with Gene by asking him to leave, even here you are talking to me less than you were at your first two sessions." She wasn't at all surprised that Alex didn't respond. "It feels like you are avoiding communication because you don't want to be in a situation where you might have you talk about what you have been through. That if you talk to somebody they might ask you a question you don't want to answer, such as how you are or how you're coping." She looked at Alex as she remained silent and her eyes seemed unfocused, "And answering those questions will mean that you have to acknowledge it."

Finally Alex glanced at her.

"Acknowledge what?" she asked coldly.

The psychologist looked at her sadly.

"That it happened," she said quietly.

~xXx~

"I don't know what happened, Headcase. So don't even ask. One minute I was walking by with a mug in me hand, the next I was packing me suitcase."

"Your relationship had been struggling for a while, since election night, hadn't it?"

"You say that like it's a revelation."

"Whose decision was it to separate, Gene?"

"Does it sound like something I wanted to do?

"So it was Alex's decision?"

"Yer in the wrong career love, should have been a detective."

"Did you argue with her?"

"She'd need to _talk_ to me to have a ruddy argument."

"I meant argue with her about leaving. Did you tell her you didn't want to go?"

"Didn't want to waste me breath when her mind was made up."

"Perhaps she wanted you to _change_ her mind."

"Why would she want that then? She blames me for everything. She'd got no bloody faith in me. She was glad to see the back o'me."

"Or perhaps she wanted you to prove her wrong?"

Gene glared at the therapist.

"Well, Headcase, for _that_ to happen she would have to _be_ wrong, wouldn't she?"

"You still hold yourself responsible for her abduction and assault?

"If I do I'm not the only one."

"Are you still feeling responsible for your son's condition as well, Gene?"

"I told you I don't have a bloody son!"

"Your best friend. Sorry, Gene, that was my slip. Do you still feel responsible for what's happened to Simon?"

"Look, we'll get on better of you open up the flapping bits on the sides of yer head and start listening for once. I don't _feel_ responsible, I _am_ responsible. Me and me bloody bad decisions."

"Do you feel you've continued to make what you deem bad decisions?"

"No."

"So your confidence is improving?"

"No, I mean I've not made any decisions."

"You can't go through life without making decisions forever."

"Working out well so far."

"Like letting Alex decide you should move out?" She stared at Gene as his face grew thunderous and his tongue flicked around his dry lips.

"You want to talk to me about decisions, Headcase? I've been given the mother of all decisions."

"Would you like to talk it through?"

Gene stared at her darkly.

"I've been _given_," he began stiffly, "the decision of flipping the little switch next to Simon's bed," he swallowed, "and saying a permanent goodnight. " he saw the psychologist's expression change completely, the shock and the sadness filtering through no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. "_There._ You wanted decisions? There's a bloody big one for you." He closed his eyes. "Now tell me again why I need to start making them again when they revolve around the decision to put an end to a man's life."

~xXx~

"I don't have life. Not really." Jake sighed and shook his head. "No, sorry. That's way too dramatic. I don't mean to exaggerate."

"You must be feeling that way to have said it in the first place."

"I shouldn't do though. I don't have any right. I mean, it's not everyone else's fault that they're going through so much."

"Is there anyone at work you can talk to about feeling this way?"

"That's the whole thing, I don't _have_ anyone to talk to. Not any more."

"Who would you have spoken to before?"

"Marci," Jake said quietly, "she's been my best friend for years. But she's struggling with Eddie's death. I can't lumber her with my pathetic problems." He sighed. "And there would have been Eddie.." he shook his head, "I miss having him around to talk to. And Shaz…" he closed his eyes, "she's spending a lot of time with Marci. I know she's trying to help her with her loss. I don't want to intrude on them. My DCI is having," he hesitated, "_personal_ issues of his own… DCI Drake is already struggling…" he shook his head. "And there was… _someone_… I was getting close to for a while," he exhaled, the sadness on his face clear to see, "but he's still hung up on his ex-girlfriend and…" he swallowed, "even when he says he wants to talk… I know he's just humouring me… he has other things on his mind."

"Jake," the psychologist interrupted before he could go on, "all I've heard from you are the reasons why _you_ won't talk to anyone else. Not why _they_ won't talk to _you_." She paused as he looked at her, confused, "it sounds to me that it's _you_ who's isolating yourself from the others."

"I," Jake blinked, "I wouldn't if they didn't have their problems –"

"_Your_ problems are just as valid as anyone else's, Jake. You need to talk as much as anyone else."

Jake shook his head slowly.

"I just want everyone to be able to sort through their own problems without worrying about mine," he said

"Then what makes you think," she began, "that they don't feel the same way about you?"

Jake's eyes turned downward. He closed his eyes. She may have had a point.

~xXx~

"It's like he's just avoiding me. He's been my best friend forever and since Eddie died…" Marci closed her eyes and shook her head. "Maybe he doesn't know what to say to me or… I don't know. "

"Sadly it's not unusual for people to find it difficult to know how to talk to those who have experienced a loss recently. They may feel awkward because they're unsure whether to talk about Eddie or whether to avoid mentioning him completely."

"When all I want to know is where a file is being kept or whether Bains got out on bail for the ice cream van smuggling ring bust then it seems stupid they'd even _think_ about that," Marci said quietly.

"Your situation also may remind them of losses they've experienced too," the psychologist explained, "sometimes seeing someone experiencing the kind of loss that you have can bring back the death of someone they were close to. A friend, a partner, a family member…"

"That makes even _less_ sense because the only one who's treating me the same is Shaz," Marci sighed.

The psychologist remembered Shaz from previous sessions. She'd studded her notes from the brief counselling she received after she'd lost Kim as well. It seemed to her that Shaz was still struggling with her own loss.

"It can work the other way around too," she said, "_Shaz_ may have struggled to find anyone with whom she felt comfortable talking about her girlfriend's death. She might not have known anyone who'd been through a loss similar to hers and now she has found she finally has someone to talk to."

"I don't like it. I mean, I don't like it _either_ way. I don't want to be seen as weird or different. I don't want to be singled out because of Eddie. I want my life back." She hung her head, "that's so selfish… isn't it? I want my life back," she closed her eyes, "when Eddie was the one who lost his."

~xXx~

"You seem better than the last time we spoke. Brighter."

Shaz has a noticeable difference about her. It was something in the way she held herself, the way she moved. She held her head a little higher; her hands weren't fiddling nervously with each other and anything else within close proximity. There was even a little colour back in her cheeks which had seemed so incredibly pale before and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

"I do?" She asked. There was even a little smile there.

"Has anything changed in your life since we last spoke?"

"No, miss. Not especially, anyway."

"Something must be making the difference."

Shaz gave a little shrug but there was a bit of a buzz going through her veins; the low hum of happiness that couldn't be explained in words.

"I suppose that… things are… _good_," she said, "I'm back at work now. I got a promotion, you see… just before… well, you know," she looked down for a moment, not wanting to spell out the fact that her promotion came just minutes before the blasts, "I'm really enjoying it., even though things are cramped."

"How so?"

"Lots of us working out of one room," Shaz explained, "there's not a lot of the station we can work in. Not safely, anyway. We're sharing with CID. It's working out OK." She hesitated, "apart from when one of the dogs ate the leg of the Guv's desk..."

The psychologist shuddered. She imagined that wouldn't go down too well.

"So you're feeling positive about being back at work?"

"Oh, yes, Miss," Shaz nodded enthusiastically, "I'm enjoying it more than ever."

"Is that because of your promotion?""

"And the company."

"You like sharing your office with another department?"

"I have a few friends in CID," Shaz told her.

"Yes, you know Marci, don't you?"

She noticed a tiny flicker of Shaz's eyes and an almost imperceptible pinkness across her cheeks as she looked away.

"That's right," she said.

"You said you'd been finding Marci's recent loss difficult because it brought back some of your own grief," the psychologist pointed out, "are you finding it easier to deal with the memory now?"

Shaz nodded a little coyly.

"Marci's doing really well," she said, "I'm proud of her."

"Have you been spending a lot of time with her?"

Shaz seemed to blink extremely slowly. She let a little smile flicker onto her lips.

"A bit."

The psychologist hesitated.

"Sharon?" she asked, "is there something else you wanted to talk about?"

Shaz hesitated, looking tempted by the idea of talking. Her head was working away as she eyed up the psychologist, in two minds about whether to open up or whether to keep to herself some of the thoughts and the emotions that had been flying around her lately. Eventually she closed her eyes with a slight smile and shook her head slowly.

"No, that's OK," she said.

"I'm here to listen, it doesn't matter what you want to talk about. It doesn't have to be the incident."

"I don't think 'incident' is a very good word for such a bad night," said Shaz but she was just trying to change the subject. No, she really didn't want to talk, she decided. Maybe some other time she would want to talk. But for now she just wanted to keep her thoughts to herself.

After all, having a crush was like having the most wonderful secret that only her heart knew.

~xXx~

"Are you going to sit here in silence for the full hour, Robin?"

Robin wanted to. No, in fact, he didn't want to; he wanted to be anywhere but there. He wanted to be at home, cooking pizzas or at work, feeding Cassandra or even marching up and down Downing Street singing love songs to Tony Blair would have been preferable to sitting there in yet another session.

"I don't have anything to say," he told her.

This is the third session you've attended," she reminded him, "and so far you've said very little about the experience you went through on election night."

"It was one of the worst things I've been through," Robin said crossly, "why would I want to relive it?

"I'm just here to listen when you need to talk about it.

"Which I don't. Need to, I mean."

"You might find that if you aren't able to express your feelings then you will start finding them harder to cope with."

"It was one fucking night out of my whole life!" Robin cried.

"Something can only last seconds and yet still leave you in need of support."

"I'm more concerned about the fact that the _rest_ of my _life_ is over!"

The psychologist hesitated.

"What do you mean, Robin?

"I'm talking about my relationship. The love of my fucking life."

"Have you been able to talk to her yet?"

Robin gave a bitter laugh.

"Oh yeah, I spoke to her alright. Well, she spoke to me. Told me exactly where to stick myself, and our relationship." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So yeah. I guess it's over. All those times you labelled her my ex? That's what she's labelled herself now." He huffed in her direction. "_Congratulations_.

The psychologist let her breath out slowly.

"Robin, I am sorry to hear that," she said quietly, "but perhaps now that she has ended things properly you will be able to begin to accept that your relationship has reached its end and to move on.

Robin closed his eyes and gritted his teeth,

"That's the thing," he said crossly, "I _don't_ believe it. Not for one minute."

"Your girlfriend has told you straight that –"

"She's told me _nothing_!" Robin cried, "she spewed out a load of words just to get rid of me. She didn't mean them."

"What makes you think that? And why would she want to _'get rid of you'?"_

"Because I know her," Robin cried, "and as for getting rid of me…" he almost shook as he tried to work out what to tell the woman. He wasn't even sure himself. But he knew it had to do with Keats and whatever damn twisted reason she was stuck in that damned place. "Perhaps," he said stiffly, "that's something I need to work out on my own, in my own time."

~xXx~

"I…" Alex flinched as she swallowed, "I thought it would pass with time. I thought that I would just accept things. I always have before. I mean… It's not as though I've been through the same thing before but I've been hurt… taken… my life has been in grim danger… I've been through a lot. In my line of work that's not unusual. And I've always put myself back on my feet and moved on." She could feel her chest tightening as she thought about it. "But this time… this time things were different. What happened… it went so far beyond…" she trailed off and shook her head.

"Go on," the psychologist said encouragingly.

"I don't know if I can."

"Try, Alex." She passed as she watched Alex's face growing paler as she stared. "You've come this far."

Alex breathed in very deeply and slowly, filling her lungs with oxygen which she released gradually. She wished that her anxiety would flow away on her breath. No such luck. But she somehow found the strength to continue.

"This," she whispered, "was something I had never experienced before. And I don't know how to cope with it. It feels… _unreal_. As though it didn't really happen. It was too much… too great… too terrible. It _couldn't_ have really happened." She looked down, refusing to meet the woman's stare. "People asking me how I am… make it hard to deny that it happened. People… _Gene_… looking at me… with that guilt upon his face… makes it impossible to pretend it didn't happen." She swallowed, "he… blames himself. He feels… that it was his fault for not… going with me."

"_He_ feels, or _you_ feel?"

Alex breathed in deeply again. Up until that moment she would have said '_I feel'_. But she knew inside that it wasn't true.

"_He_ feels," she whispered.

The woman nodded.

"Go on."

"I couldn't... Every time he tried to speak to me… it was all… garbled apologies and admissions of guilt. He wanted me to tell him it was OK… that it wasn't his fault… but I couldn't because…" she swallowed back tears, "because if I told him it wasn't his fault then I'd have had to admit that it had happened. That there was something to forgive him for, Something to absolve him of the guilt for." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "and that meant admitting that he… that it –"

There was a moment of silence.

"Go on, Alex."

Alex closed her eyes firmly and drew her breath in once again.

"That he raped me," her voice barely rose above a whisper

"That who raped you?"

Alex swallowed.

"_Jim Keats_," her voice was barely audible but still she said the words.

"Go on."

"Jim Keats," Alex whispered, "raped me and I –" she finally opened her eyes and found the woman meeting her stare, "and it wasn't Gene's fault, of _course_ it wasn't, there was no way he would have known, there was no way anyone could have known about the ambulance or Keats, or…" she found herself trailed off as she pictured Gene's expression of devastation; the look on his face as he realised what Alex had been through, the way he blamed himself, the way that every time he looked at her he seemed to be seeking her forgiveness. But she'd not been able to forgive him because that would mean admitting that it happened, not just to herself but to the outside world.

"Alex?"

Alex swallowed.

"_It wasn't his fault,"_ she whispered, "he had to make a decision. He couldn't have known. There was no way that he could have known what would happen." She shook her head. "But it happened anyway," her heart sank down into the pit of her stomach. "And now it's all too late."

The psychologist looked at her seriously.

"Is it?"

"Of course."

It doesn't have to be."

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn't _get_ it, the woman just didn't _get_ it. Even acknowledging what had happened and that Gene's decisions were not to blame the way Gene had behaved since then had destroyed her confidence in him. She needed his strength more than ever but it had crumbled along with his station. He was no longer the Gene Hunt she knew and loved, and until she saw a glimpse of that man again then her heart remained empty.

What use was the lion without his roar?

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: First of all I wanted to say I'm sorry for the lack of updates. This has been a shit week and life continues to travel in the same vein for the foreseeable future. I have not been able to write for several days both physically and emotionally. I've totally conceded defeat with NaNoWriMo, there is no way I could catch up and I'm not going to pressure myself to 'just try' either, it's not worth it. That's not to say I am abandoning the story because I'm not, I'm planning to write alternately with this fic and the one that follows. Rather than trying to fulfil the aim of NaNo to write 50,000 words in 30 days my personal aim is to finish this fic, the shortish one that follows and the Victoria/Nailer story by the end of the year. That feels reasonable to me.**_

_**My maternity leave ends next week. Initially it will probably lead to me updating less for a week or so but after that I'll be writing more because I always have a chapter open in another window while I'm working.**_

_**Is anyone still reading?**_


	12. Chapter 9: The Coming of Courage

**Chapter 9**

"_Tonight?"_

Alex knew that her tone upset Robin. She could see it in his face and she couldn't blame him. She didn't mean to sound quite so horrified by his question but the thought of going for a drink made her shudder and panic.

"I know it's short notice," Robin said quietly, feeling both upset by her reaction and guilty for asking, "I wasn't going to do anything at all this year. But then I realised that if I didn't try to make myself do something I'd be sat at home miserably, probably trying to shove another cake down my gullet and chasing it up with half a bottle of brandy."

"Sounds like a regular birthday to me," Alex tried to joke but her smile was feeble.

"Please, Alex?" Robin said sombrely, "Simon's still in a coma and barely holding on, Kim's refusing to acknowledge that I exist, today's going to be horrible. You're about the best friend I've got, if _you're_ not going to come then who will?"

Alex wanted to go, at least a part of her did. She knew that Robin's first birthday after his death was never going to be an easy one but with Simon's condition and Kim's refusal to see him Robin had never felt more alone. Robin was one of the best friends that Alex had ever known and she wanted to be there for him but she hadn't been out socially since election night. The whole thought of it made her shudder. She couldn't face the idea of leaving the safety of her home to head out to a bar or a club and spend the night surrounded by strangers.

"What about Jake?" she asked and immediately regretted it as a storm cloud seemed to settle over Robin's face.

"He's part of the _not-acknowledging-I-exist_ party," he said.

"Marci? Shaz?"

Internally Robin sighed. Alex was missing the point. And besides, he didn't want to admit that the names she'd mentioned weren't ones he'd invited. Marci was Jake's best friend, that was too awkward, and the last person he wanted to spend his birthday with was Kim's first love. He knew full well that he could practically count on one hand the number of times Shaz had even mentioned Kim but he'd still managed to convince himself that she was going to choose that of all night to regale him with tales of her lost love.

"Alex, look, so far I have two confirmed guest," he began sadly, "Simon's crocodile and this guy I barely know from the canine division who claims to be _At One With The Winalot_ and yet doesn't know which end of the dog to feed. If you don't come out tonight then I might as well go and boil my head."

The combination of the image of Robin with his head in a saucepan, followed by the slightly sarcastic puppy-dog eyes he made at her forced Alex to break into a teeny, tiny smile and with a sigh and a groan she finally relented.

"Fine," she said, "I give in. I'll go."

"You will? Really?"

"But just one drink. And I'm not staying late."

"No problem. That's no problem at all. Eightish sound OK to you?"

Alex gave a strained smile.

"That's fine," she said.

Robin looked relieved and pleased, closing his eyes for a second. The idea of spending the night alone was one that had been depressing him terribly.

"_Thank_ you, Alex," he said quietly.

Alex sighed internally.

"No problem," she said quietly. . She forced a smile as Robin patted her gratefully on the shoulder but as he walked away the panic resumed. She thought about the concept of wearing something nice, something a little bit dressy for a night out. She closed her eyes briefly as she pulled on the neck of the plain beige high-necked top that she was swamped in from head to thigh. It was far too big for her and shapeless, not to mention lacking any form of attractive quality whatsoever, but she had taken to wearing things like that now. Anything to take the attention away from her. She thought about the idea of sitting in a public place, surrounded by people. What if they _looked_ at her?

She gave an angry, frustrated growl at the back of her throat. She knew those thoughts were irrational and stupid, but at the same time they terrified her. She just wanted to disappear. She didn't want to be seen or noticed.

As her eyes roamed the room she could see the top half of Gene's head, the rest of his face hidden away behind the screen of folders he had erected. In the absence of a private office he had made himself as sheltered as possible. With a sigh and a bite of the lip, Alex got to her feet and walked slowly across the room. There was a day not that long ago she would have turned to Gene when she was feeling anxious.

She found herself walking across to him. She knew that she wasn't completely sure of what she was doing but for the first time in weeks she felt compelled to talk to him. The last session had given her food for thought and while she still felt unhappy with Gene's lack of responsibility and his sudden indecisiveness she knew that there had been more to her issues with him than that. The psychologist was right, talking to people meant acknowledging what had happened and because of that she had tried to separate herself from anyone who might ask a question she didn't want to respond to, like how she was feeling or how she was. She wondered why she found it so easy to talk to Robin. Perhaps because they had been through such a similar thing?

Her thoughts stopped as she found herself at Gene's desk. He didn't look up. Was he ignoring her or were his wall of folders simply too effective?

"_Ahem?"_ she cleared her throat gently and his eyes rose from the papers he was reading from Interpol. He almost did a double take. "Good morning, Gene," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Gene scratched his head, looking a little flustered.

"You found it then?" he asked.

"Your desk?"

"Yer voice?"

Alex flinched, his words pricking her conscience. She took a deep breath and tried to push them out of her mind, there were other things to focus on.

"Gene, did you know it's Robin's birthday today?" she asked him.

"Don't worry B-_Alex,"_ he stopped himself from using her nickname just in time, "I didn't subject him to a tuneful chorus of happy birthday over his cereal this morning."

"No, I mean," she swallowed. Why was she feeling so nervous? She hadn't felt like this in years, "he's got drinks on after work. This evening, eight o clock," she paused again, "has he asked you?"

Gene stared at Alex as though her words had confused him like crazy.

"Mentioned them, yes," he grunted.

"Well what did you say?" Alex asked.

"Didn't. Haven't made up me mind yet."

Alex sighed crossly.

"Well that's new," she said, a little sarcastically.

Gene stared at Alex, his eyes hovering between looking and glaring.

"I take it you've had an invite then?" he said eventually, "well don't worry, I won't be playing _Don't-Know Derek_ any longer, I'll tell him I've got plans already with me scotch so you won't have to worry about me showing my face."

There was a random, extra beat that Alex's heart thumped out in her chest that was like a prod in the back to push her into action a split second before she gabbled,

"I think you should go." He looked a little confused and shocked as she continued, "I mean, I would like you to go. I _want_ you to go." She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. "I want you to come tonight. To Robin's birthday drinks."

Gene looked at Alex, his mouth tilted to one side slightly in slight confusion. He put down his pen and tapped his fingers lightly on the desk.

"Am I right in thinking," he began awkwardly, "that you might be," he hesitated, "asking me out?" he said the words with a touch of sarcasm but behind that he couldn't hide the tiny spark of hope that her question had ignited.

Alex stared back. For some time she wasn't even sure herself. She was aware of the silence and didn't want to leave the question hanging for too long. Biting her lip, she slowly nodded.

"I suppose I am," she said eventually, "if you want to look at it that way."

"I see," Gene cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, pushing his papers away as though they were interfering with his thought processes and stopping him from thinking it through. Eventually, his expression hard and tough, he nodded stiffly. "Might be able to find a window in me schedule."

Alex tried not to let the corner of her lip twitch upward. She didn't want Gene to catch her smiling.

"Good," she said, sounding more as though she was confirming a business meeting than preparing for some sort of a date, "then you can pick me up. Tonight. Make it five to eight."

"Who says I'm gonna be driving to this thing?" Gene asked.

"The fact that you're going to want to impress your date with your petrol-gobbing penis extension," Alex said as she turned and began to walk away, feeling a little nervous about what she'd just done. The words of the psychologist from just days before went round and round in her mind. She hadn't been able to think of very much else. A little of the fog was starting to clear from around her but it was going to take a long time. She hoped that Gene had the strength and the patience to help her find her way.

~xXx~

Alex pulled the fluffy blue towel around her as she stepped out of the shower and dried herself quickly. It was one of the things she enjoyed about Gene not being there; having the bathroom to herself.

No. That was a lie. It wasn't one of the things she enjoyed. It was one of the things she _told_ herself that she enjoyed to make his absence feel less abhorrent to her. And when she thought about it, there was even a reason behind it. It wasn't that she liked having the bathroom to herself, it was just that she didn't have to try to keep herself hidden after a bath or a shower, she didn't have to worry about him coming in while she was getting dressed or washed. Then she realised that was never something she had worried about in the past. In fact, he'd have been in the bathroom more often than not, whether he was plucking his nose hairs with the kitchen tongs or simply trying to get an eyeful of her new underwear.

But since election night she'd wanted to cover up right away. She couldn't even let Gene's eyes fall upon her body. At first she had thought it was because she didn't want him to see her bruises. As time went on she realised that she just didn't want him to see her body, full stop, because the last time anyone had seen it –

She flinched and shuddered, unable to let her mind go there. Instead she dropped the towel to the ground, pulling on her knickers and her bra as fast as she could, then stepping into her silky black trousers and fastening them at the waist. They gaped where her already skinny form had become frailer in the weeks following her assault. She didn't want to eat. She had no appetite.

She grabbed for the red blouse she'd brought into the bathroom ready to wear but hesitated before she had a chance to pull it on. The brightness and the lowish neckline made her think again. It wasn't exactly the comforting beige she'd been donning all week.

She dropped it to the ground and reached for her other top again instead but she hesitated and closed her eyes. The thought of wearing something eye-catching, something that might bring eyes back to her body, scared her like nothing on earth. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry but she forced herself to drop the beige monstrosity and pick up her blouse from the floor again.

Quickly she shifted the light material over her arms and fastened the buttons before she could change her mind. She blanked out her fears as she ran a brush through her hair, then let her hand hover over the lipstick. She bit her lip as she thought it over, then withdrew her hand.

_One step at a time, _she told herself.

She was getting there. She knew it would take some time. But this was the first step.

It wasn't long before she heard a car horn beeping for her outside and despite a rising wave of anxiety she drew in her breath and prepared to set out for the night.

"_Welcome back, Alex Drake,"_ she whispered to herself.

~xXx~

A/N: Thank you so much t everyone who let me know they're still reading and for all your patience while I've struggled to write lately. I might try to concentrate on getting this story finished and then pick up Victoria/Nailer while I'm writing the next fic, it depends if it starts to flow more easily again, I'm hoping it might.


	13. Chapter 10: The Brightening of Birthdays

**Chapter 10**

_Why did I ever think this was a good idea?_

Robin sat nursing his brandy on a table by himself in a bar full of strangers. There were two people he knew from the canine division but he barely knew more about them than the name of their dog. Aside from that, the most company Robin had that night was from the strong, dark liquid swirling in the bottom of his glass.

"Why should I sit getting pissed on my own in a public place when I could be sitting, getting pissed on my own in the comfort of my own home?"

He felt like an idiot for even trying to make an effort. It wasn't as though he even really felt like it. He was about the lowest he had ever felt in his life. He knew that Simon was slowly losing his grip on life and that Kim's words from a few weeks before were going to haunt him eternally. He had very little left. This was not how he had ever envisaged spending his 32nd birthday, he knew that much for certain.

He looked at the clock, even though the time never changed for him. From what he heard other people saying it was getting on for half past eight. He supposed this really was it, two twats he didn't even really know and a strange voodoo doll of Geoff that he'd fashioned from a couple of beer mats. He thought Alex at least would be there. She was supposed to have arrived around eight, where _was_ she? He knew he'd talked her into it, perhaps he'd done the wrong thing. She really didn't seem to want to go.

He downed the last of his brandy and spread his hands on the table, staring at his fingers as though they were going to offer some kind of conversation. He was about to grab his jacket, concede defeat and head home when the door opened and he looked up to see Alex enter rather sheepishly. Immediately his face lit up and his spirits brightened. He stood up perhaps a little too fast after all the brandy and weaved his way over to her, stopping in surprise as Gene followed her through the doorway.

"Alex, I'm so glad you made it!" he said, unsure quite how to address Gene after his reluctance to give Robin a firm answer that morning.

"I'm so sorry we're late," Alex said as she hugged Robin warmly, "_someone_ couldn't decide which route to take," she threw a mild glare at Gene over her shoulder.

"Would have been easier if _someone else_ had let me reads the map meself," Gene threw back as he approached Robin who seemed to panic a little.

"I don't have to hug you as well, do I?" he asked, still unable to completely forgive Gene for the comment about being '_lesbians in law'_ and the whole eyeliner debacle some months previously.

"Excuse _you_, dogface," Gene cried, "_I'm_ not the one parked on Rainbow Road!" he thrust an object with screwed up gaudy paper wrapped around it at Robin. "Here. Happy birthday, Batman."

With a slightly suspicious expression Robin took the object. His suspicion quickly found itself justified as the paper fell away revealing a wooden spoon. He frowned and turned it around in his hands.

"Jesus, thanks Gene," he eyed him warily, "this certainly is… a spoon."

"You're always buried knee deep in pots and pans so thought you could make use of this," Gene told him.

"Make use of my own spoon, that I was looking for last night and seemed to have mysteriously gone walkabouts?" Robin narrowed his eyes at Gene, "yes, I'm sure I can."

"Don't worry, he's always doing this," Alex said, looking somewhat annoyed.

"And that's supposed to put my mind at rest?!" Robin cried, staring at the used spoon.

"Forget about the spoon," Alex said as she passed him another object, "Open mine."

"And I'll get the birthday boy something to numb the pain," Gene offered, "What's it going to be?"

Robin blinked.

"You're getting me in a round?" he asked incredulously.

"Course I am," said Gene. He held out his palm, "as long as you contribute a tenner."

Robin groaned, his spirits sinking further with every moment that passed.

"I liked it better when no one was here," he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. Grudgingly he handed Gene a ten pound note. "Brandy," he said, better make it a double."

Alex watched Gene leave to head to the bar, then nodded back at Robin's table where some empty glasses already sat.

"How many of those have you had already?" she asked, feeling concerned. Robin had the good grace to look a little sheepish.

"Just a couple," he said, biting his lip, "…if _a couple_ means four."

"Oh, _Robin,"_ Alex sighed.

"It's just one night," Robin said quietly. "It's not like I'm on a booze marathon. I'm just feeling down." He glanced around, "not exactly a grand turn-out, is it?"

Alex rubbed his arm sympathetically.

"People are still feeling a little awkward about going out socially," she bluffed, "after the explosions. Things have been strange."

"Yeah, don't I know it," sighed Robin. The expression on his face made Alex's heart sink and she almost couldn't bear it. Scared for his oldest friend, shunned by the people he loved, Robin was alone and depressed.

"Open your present," Alex said gently and pointed to the gift that Robin was still holding, he smiled gratefully and lifted it between them.

"OK," he said quietly with a smile. He began to tear away the paper, revealing beneath it a silver plated frame with a photograph of his mysteriously appearing dog within it. Finally he gave a genuine smile. "_Cassandra."_

"I got one of your officers to take it for me," Alex smiled, "The frame is the proper present but I hate giving empty frames."

"I get that," Robin nodded. He looked at Alex with a smile and gave her a one-armed hug with the frame still in the other hand. "It's lovely. Thanks, Alex."

"You're welcome," Alex smiled as Gene returned, drink in hand.

"Here you go, Batman," he said, "celebrate the onslaught of more wrinkles."

Robin frowned.

"What do you mean _more?!"_ he panicked, feeling his almost-smooth brow for the non-existent wrinkles of which Gene spoke. He scowled and took the drink. "I'll bloody be needing this with you on the scene," he said as he took the glass back to his table.

Alex frowned at Gene.

"Where's mine?" she demanded.

"Your what?"

"My drink."

"I didn't know what you wanted," he said, sounding surprisingly unsure of himself. It saddened and worried Alex to see him still so indecisive and it just wasn't right. She bit her lip and tried to change the subject. She had already upset him by having a go for getting them los on the way and wanted to at least make an effort to stay civil.

"Poor Robin," she said.

What did I do now?" Gene demanded, "aside from overcharging him for his brandy and pointing out that he was over the hill."

"No, not that," Alex sighted, "look at this place, Gene. It's full of strangers. No one's made an effort."

"He didn't give us much time," Gene pointed out.

"_We_ made it. Where's everyone else?" Alex shook her head, "I know that… things…" she swallowed, "are still affecting people. But there's no need to keep avoiding him."

"What are those pretty lips flapping about now?" Gene demanded.

"People avoid him, Gene," Alex hissed, "they know what happened to him and they don't know how to cope with it so they go out of their way not to talk to him."

"I haven't seen a big empty space round him where his Jimbo-cooties keep the world at bay," Gene said, panicking slightly about the fact that he'd mentioned Keats's name.

Alex looked at him sadly.

"You haven't seen much of anything lately," she said, a coldness in her eyes.

Gene looked down. He felt his chest growing tight with a mix of anxiety and depression. He swallowed as he thought back over the last two months and how dark they had been, for all of them. He stared at Robin, nursing the drink Gene had just furnished him with, still sitting alone despite himself and Alex arriving. It was wrong. It wasn't right at all. This wasn't a Fenchurch East celebration. What the hell was _wrong_ with them all? He felt a surge of panic for the decision he was making but blocked it out to go with his instinct.

"Keep me chair warm, Alex," he told her.

Alex glanced around. They were still standing up.

"Which chair exactly?" she frowned.

"Any one that takes yer pick," Gene told her as he took a stride towards the door.

"Wait," Alex panicked slightly at being left alone, "where are you going?"

Gene glanced back.

"To get reinforcements," he said.

~xXx~

The combined office was surprisingly full considering it was evening, but there was much work to catch up on so it wasn't that unusual. No one was that surprised to see Gene wandering in but they were surprised by what he had to say.

"Do none of you have anything better to do on a Wednesday night?"

The office fell silent as they turned to see his somewhat annoyed expression. Terry froze with a dart in his hand, mid-throw.

"Sorry Guv? He asked.

Gene plucked the dart from his fingers and chucked it indiscriminately at the dart board on the back of the door, narrowly missing the bullseye.

"You all appear to have failed to notice that one of us is celebrating his birthday today," he announced loudly, "Now, since it's not like you all to miss a night of booze and debauchery I can only assume that you all went deaf in the explosion and didn't hear yer invitation." He noticed several people starting to look uncomfortable at his words, "because I can't think of any other reason you'd miss the chance to get pissed up and let yet hair down." He turned his scowl to another victim. "Want to tell me why you're holding yer own tournament here when there's a perfectly good dartboard in the bar?" he asked Bammo.

"Erm," Bammo hesitated, "Not got any booze money 'til next week, guv."

"Really?" Gene hesitated. He felt violently sick as he thought about the action he was about to take. It was something abhorrent to his nature, but he fought the urge to vomit, took out his wallet and extracted a five pound note. "Here," he thrust it at Bammo, "Take this and get one in for the birthday boy." He issued further notes to Terry and Poirot, "and these. Brandies. Doubles. By the time I get there I want to see Batman so inebriated that the only way he'd be more legless is if he turned into a snake." He turned and walked across to Marci. "Nicey Spice. What's your excuse?"

Marci glanced at the uncomfortable expression on Jake's face. She knew she hadn't been invited and she knew why.

"I'm, uh," she cleared her throat, "I'm just finishing up these papers with Jake."

"They'll still be there in the morning," Gene held out a five pound note but she shook her head.

"I don't need money, Guv, I just can't go," she said.

"I see," Gene held his jaw firm. "And yer staple-loving pal Eddie," He wasn't sure if he'd said the right thing as he watched her face fall.

"Yes?"

"If he was still here, where would be he right now?" Gene asked.

Marci looked down. She knew the answer to that.

"First one at the bar, Guv," she mumbled.

"So where do you think he'd want _you_ to be?"

Marci hesitated. She glanced at Jake. Despite his own feelings he gave her an awkward smile and nodded, and her own expression relaxed a little.

"At the bar," she said quietly.

Gene nodded and held the fiver closer.

"Got it in one, Spice."

Marci smiled, looking a little tearful. Eddie was always the first one up for a night out. She took the money and stood up.

"Thanks, Guv," she said quietly as she thrust the note in her pocket and grabbed her coat.

Gene's stare turned to Shaz.

"Ahh, Sergeant Granger –" he began, but the sight of Marci heading to the bar was all the incentive Shaz needed.

"On my way, Guv," she said, trotting at pace after her friend.

This was going better than expected. Finally Gene turned to Jake who was doing a very good job of pretending that he wasn't standing beside him, his emptying wallet looming large.

"Alright, Dawson, how much is it going to take to get you to take a night off from paperwork and get one in for the Dogmeister instead?"

Jake didn't look up. He didn't dare. He needed to stay focused.

"I can't, Guv," he said simply.

"The others said that too," Gene indicated the empty office, "all changed their minds."

"But I really can't," Jake insisted, "this paperwork is way late, Guv. Now Marci's gone, there's only me working on it and it's got to be complete by Friday if we want to get things rolling."

Gene looked at the paperwork. Jake really had been working hard on the damn thing. Despite Gene's stance on paperwork he knew that for some reason Jake seemed to like it and if it meant he got out of doing any himself all the better.

"Alright, Dawson," he said, "since you've got a boner for red tape you might as well keep going."

Jake closed his eyes momentarily, sighing with relief

"Thanks, Guv," he said, not ready to face Robin yet. The therapy session had made him think about exactly how much he was distancing himself from others, but it was different where Robin was concerned. There was a reason for that.

Gene surveyed the near-empty office with a satisfied nod.

"Me work here is done" he said.

~xXx~

Gene felt uncharacteristically sheepish as he entered the bar and peered around the door to see Alex sitting alone at a table, looking a little lost and nervous. When she saw him she got to her feet and hurried in his direction, taking in the changed scene around her as myriad familiar faces drank, smoked, talked and danced. She glanced at Robin who was dancing to some Danni Minogue track with Marci and Shaz and then turned to Gene, trying to suppress a smile.

"They've been filtering in for the last fifteen minutes," she told him, "what did you say to them?"

Gene raised an eyebrow.

"Don't know, Bolly. Maybe they had their fill of paperwork for one night." He stopped talking as he realised he'd let out the B word unintentionally and looked cautiously at Alex. She seemed a little uncomfortable but didn't say anything. "Birthday boy looks happier."

"That might be the three double brandies he's just poured down his neck," Alex commented, raising an eyebrow. She looked around. "Where's Jake?"

"Getting friendly with the Marler case, last I saw," Gene told her.

"Why isn't he here?

"You heard, B-_Alex,_ slave to the paperwork."

"Oh, bollocks he is," Alex sighed, grabbing her jacket, "you didn't believe that, did you?"

"Excuse me for not dragging him down to the interview rooms to carry out the interrogation in full!" Gene cried, "where are you going?"

"To see if I can manage to drive a wedge between Jake and his paperwork," Alex told him. She held out her hand. "Keys."

Gene stared at her.

"Did I hear that right?"

"Yes. Keys."

"Which keys would those be?"

"The ones to your Aston Martin."

"I might have trouble making me mind up these days but I haven't lost me marbles."

"Gene, put it this way; keys in my hand, tomorrow night you can take me out for a proper drink. _No_ keys in my hand, tomorrow night you can watch Robin baking cakes and doing impressions of Cassandra in heat."

Gene stared at Alex. He pulled his mouth into a straight line as he thought it over until finally he reached into his pocket.

"You drive a hard bargain. DCI Drake," he told her as he placed the keys crossly into her palm.

She threw back a smile.

"A wise decision, Gene," she said.

~xXx~

The office was so quiet and empty that Jake was considering singing a round of_ All By Myself_. A few months ago he'd have probably been out with Marci for a quick drink and a dance but no one partied any more. Not since the explosions. Well, not until that night, apparently. He stared out at the empty desks and chairs. Everyone else was at Robin's birthday now.

"Looks like it's just you and me," he told his crusty little computer as he switched on the monitor and waited for it to warm up. There were footsteps approaching but he didn't quite register them at first. When they came close enough that he had no choice but to notice them he looked up in surprise at the sight of Alex approaching.

"Ma'am," he frowned, "are you looking for DCI Hunt? Because he left a while ago…"

"No, Jake, it was you I came to see," Alex smiled pleasantly but Jake looked a little unnerved.

"W-why?" he asked.

Alex pulled out a chair and sat down carefully, trying not to disturb the papers that surrounded them.

"Why aren't you at Robin's birthday drinks?" she asked.

Jake swallowed, trying to cover up his nerves.

"Oh, this case," he looked away and vaguely indicated some notes, "so much work to get through and I'm on my own…" he swallowed again, "besides, everyone else is there, I won't be missed."

"You will by Robin," Alex told him and notes that he wouldn't catch her eye. She tapped her fingers lightly against the desk. "He could do with some company tonight."

"Marci and Shaz are there," Jake said awkwardly, "I thought you would have been too."

"I was," said Alex, "but I had to make a quick trip out to find someone he'd rather spend the evening with." She wondered if she was overstepping the mark but it was breaking her heart to see Robin so down and lonely. "Jake, I know what happened between you and Robin. On election night."

A slightly horrified glance travelled in her direction.

"I see the Fenchurch East gossip circuit is alive and well," he said, feeling his face starting to redden.

"No one was gossiping," Alex promised him, "Robin told me."

"Great," sighed Jake, "that must have been a fun conversation."

"He's hurt, Jake," Alex pushed him, "you've been treating him like a stranger since that night." She watched Jake drop his head, "I've watched you avoiding him. You won't even talk to him and he doesn't know what he's done wrong."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Jake mumbled, shuffling papers to distract himself from the subject.

"So why are you behaving this way?" Alex asked quietly. She watched as Jake shook his head slowly. "If you've changed your mind… if you just get carried away that night then isn't it better for you to be honest with him than to keep him hanging on?"

"It's not that," Jake said sadly.

"Then what is it?"

Jake gave a very long, heavy sigh before he finally glanced back at her.

"Well, _she's_ back," he mumbled, "isn't she?"

"Who?"

"_The girlfriend." _

Suddenly Alex felt her stomach flutter.

"You mean Kim?" she asked softly and Jake nodded. "You are aware that she's at Fenchurch West? And that she's closed down her relationship with Robin?"

"Yeah, right, that's going to last," Jake said a little childishly, "Ma'am, look, I've heard him talking about her. I've heard other people talking about them. He's been pining away over her. Sooner or later she's going to realise that she's made a mistake and they're going to get back together. I don't want to end up dropped like an old sock. I don't wasn't to be a rebound thing."

"Robin doesn't see you that way," Alex said quietly, "And it's not my place to say… but his relationship with Kim isn't that straightforward. I'm sure he's told you that she's not usually his type…?" he nodded slowly. "Robin… feels a connection with you. He's very fond of you. He wants to get to know you better. That's not going to be at the expense of his relationship with Kim. And if she were to… change her mind… which," she swallowed, her heart heavy, "doesn't look likely… that wouldn't mean he would feel differently about you… although I know that this might not be what _you're_ looking for in a relationship… it's not for everyone…."

"_You_ liked it well enough," Jake commented before he realised he'd just potentially completely insulted a superior , "Shit, sorry –"

"_Now_ who's being mentioned on the gossip circuit?" Alex raised an eyebrow, but she was more amused by Jake's red face that she was insulted. She found herself surprised that she wasn't more offended that there was gossip going around about herself and Kim. She suspected that most people didn't believe it anyway. "Jake, listen to me. Take Kim out of the equation right now. You're depriving yourself of the opportunity to get to know a really lovely person, whether that's as a friend or a boyfriend or anything in between. You're shutting yourself away, you're avoiding Robin, you've stopped socialising, you don't even talk to Marci or Shaz very much. In fact, I can't remember the last time you spoke to _anyone_."

Jake looked away, the words of the therapist ringing through his mind. Others had noticed it too. He wasn't even sure why he'd been doing it at first but it was something he'd been thinking about since the session. He supposed he was trying to distance himself from others so that he didn't get hurt. He'd seen Marci grieving Eddie, he'd seen Robin suffering from Kim's refusal to see him, deep down he felt that it was safer just not to become close to anyone, for fear of losing them.

"I really do have to finish this, Ma'am," he said quietly, picking up some papers and staring blankly at them.

Alex breathed out with a sigh and looked at Jake's expression. There was a loneliness and sadness buried away in there. She got to her feet and shook her head.

"I'm sorry you feel this way, Jake," she said quietly, "because you're missing out on a lot of happiness by shutting yourself away from people. You're missing out on life."

She turned and walked slowly out of the office to return to the party with a heavy heart. Jake was separating himself from others even more than _she'd_ been. She'd done her best. Now she just had to hope that her words would make Jake think again.

~xXx~

Gene stood up as he watched Alex worming her way through the crowd towards him. He waited for her to take a seat at the table before he sank into his chair again.

"How's the love of me life?" he asked.

For a split second Alex was about to say 'fine' until she realised he meant the car and handed the keys back with a sigh.

"Still in one piece," she sighed.

"Where have you been sneaking off to?" Gene asked.

"I wasn't sneaking, I just went to see Jake," Alex sighed. "I'm worried about him. He's shutting himself off from everyone."

"You weren't, uh," Gene cleared his throat, "weren't looking in a mirror by any chance were you?"

Alex frowned at him but then her expression softened.

"I'm here _now_, aren't I?" she asked quietly. Her eyes scanned the table. "Where's my drink?"

"I couldn't decide what to get you," Gene said, his eyebrow rising as he watched her expression grow dark with disappointment, but with a tiny smirk he reached behind his pint and pushed a glass of red wine in her direction. Her expression changed again and she looked at him with just a little hope. That was a glimpse of the old Gene; the Gene she knew

"I can drink to _that_," she said quietly. As she lifted her glass the motion of the door opening caught her eye and she looked up to see Jake enter the bar looking nervous and somewhat sheepish. He peered around nervously, hesitating for a few minutes before he finally began to move forward towards a table where Robin had placed himself to down another brandy.

Despite the increased crowd and the fact that he'd even danced a little, deep down there was a kind of loneliness that none of them – not Marci, not Shaz, not even Alex could fill. It was the emptiness of being without someone special on an important day. He closed his eyes as he drank from the glass, welcoming every sip as an opportunity to numb his mind and block out the thoughts of Kim and Jake a little more, but as he finished the measure and opened his eyes he found a shadow cast across the table. His eyes followed it up to a face looking back at him nervously.

"Jake?" he scrambled upright and swept his hand involuntarily trough his hair, suddenly wondering whether the dancing and drinking had left him looking unkempt. Shit, where was a mirror when he needed one? "I thought you were busy… Marci said… the paperwork…?"

Jake swallowed and gave a nervous smile.

"Always wait till tomorrow," he said.

Robin nodded slowly, waiting for something to happen. Jake didn't seem to know what to say so Robin began, "I'm glad you made it."

Jake nodded slowly. He cleared his throat.

"I was wondering, sir," he couldn't stop himself from adding, "if maybe you would like," he shrugged, "to go for a drink or something? Some time?" he cleared his throat, "the weekend, maybe?"

For a moment Robin thought it was a wind-up. After being avoided for so many weeks the fact that Jake was even talking to him felt like a miracle. His lips twitched into a smile he couldn't hold back.

"That… I would like that," he said, "very much."

"Good," Jake nodded, his cheeks reddening. He wasn't very god at this. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd propositioned anyone and that included when he'd asked Marci on a date as an April fool. He glanced around and saw the girls dancing while the Spice Girls played through the bar. "I don't suppose you feel like," he shrugged, "dancing?"

Robin blinked as his smile grew a little. He remembered briefly the last time Jake had asked him to dance. This time he wasn't going to leave him standing.

"Thought you'd never ask," he said quietly as he got to his feet and pushed his glass away.

Alex smiled to herself as she watched Jake lead Robin toward Marci and Shaz who were in the middle of some long and complicated dance routine. She sipped her wine and sighed with something she hadn't felt in a really long time. _Contentment_.

"_We're getting there,"_ she whispered to herself.

She was right. They were.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm so sorry my output is so slow right now; while you probably don't care it's making *me* frustrated. Nonetheless, I told you there were brighter times ahead…. Shame the next chapter focuses on Fenchurch West :P**_


	14. Chapter 11: The Depth of the Darkness

**Chapter 11**

"Three weeks ago, the first sightings came through. They were seen around south-east London. He's sporting a shaven head and facial hair, while she has either restyled her hair shorter and darker or is wearing a wig. Early thoughts that Nailer was responsible for the recent attacks and deaths seem to be unfounded and our intelligence suggests that they have returned to avenge these incidents instead."

"_Excuse me."_

Keats's head snapped up and he fixed his glare across the room at Kim as she spoke.

"_Yes?"_ He said through gritted teeth.

Kim raised her hand like a schoolgirl.

"I have a question," she said, holding a file open in her other hand.

Keats swallowed as he stared at her, not wishing to answer whatever sarcastic question she was about to ask.

"Make it quick," he told her.

Kim looked up at him.

"It says here that you've been charged with _assault_ against Victoria Stone."

The silence that fell over the room couldn't have been any more telling than if every person in there had come forth with an opinion. For several moments no one seemed to know quite what to say or do. They stared at Kim, then turned to Keats as though waiting for his head to explode. It felt a little like someone had thrown a pencil at the teacher in the middle of a detention. Finally when it seemed the silence would go on forever, Keats straightened up and spoke one word.

"What?"

"Here, in the file," Kim said as flatly as she could, "it says here that you are awaiting trial for her assault."

A nervous throat-clearance pulled her attention to Dillion.

"_Uh,"_ he began nervously, "nothing has been proven. DCI Keats is innocent until proven guilty."

Kim gave Keats a dark smile from across the room.

"Of course he is," she said sweetly as she held up the file, "however, it does state here that DCI Hunt from Fenchurch East is the main witness in this trial." She watched Keats's Adam's apple quiver as he swallowed. "Now," she continued, "what would happen exactly if further charges… for other crimes… were added to the one of assault against your ex DI?"

"Nothing," Keats said dryly, "because no one would add further charges."

"Really?" Kim's stare was darkening all the time, "well that's funny. Because I am sure there were some more charges against you, just recently."

"And those were dropped," Keats hissed.

"For now," Kim smiled.

Keats did not know for certain what she meant and he didn't _want_ to know either. He wanted to get as far away from that topic as possible.

_"None of this is relevant!"_ he spat, "the _point_ is that Nick Nailer and Victoria Stone have been sighted several times across the city and we have information about where they are currently located and why they are here!" he closed his eyes and took a very deep breath, attempting to soothe his anger, He was letting Kim get to him. That had been happening more and more lately. He swallowed and tried to centre himself to address his team properly. "We've had vague information about each of the incidents but never enough to act on. This time we've fed back false information through one of our sources so that Nailer will take action on what he thinks is going to be a killing of a colleague tomorrow."

"So it's a set-up?" Kim asked casually, leaving Keats to look as though his blood would boil over.

"The man is an _escapee_ and that woman is a _fugitive!"_ he cried, "they will be arrested on sight. We're only trying to get them out of hiding."

"And what if the real perpetrators of the attacks hear about this?" Kim asked, "what if they decide to take action too?"

Keats turned his glare up a notch.

"Then maybe they'll help us out," he hissed, "If someone blows Nailer's kneecaps off it will save _us_ a job!" He became aware that CID were staring at him somewhat warily and knew he was taking it too far. He tried to take things down a notch. "You all have the details. Tomorrow night, according to the 'information' we sent in his direction, someone will be looking for Nailer's good friend Carter; that's as in _Carter's Logistics_. All goes according to plan, Nailer will be there with his sidekick to stop them. And if all goes well? _We'll_ be there to stop _them."_

"If you catch them this way it will never stand up in court," Kim told him. She watched his ever-darkening expression and began to get angrier. "Although I have the feeling if you had it your way no one would be able to stand up at _all!"_

"If you don't like my way of working then take your colander-ears and piss off out of my _department!"_ Keats spat, his words full of bile and fury but somehow lacking the threat that he usually carried. Instead, as Kim glared at him her soul burned with furious fire.

"We both know that's not going to happen," she hissed and could feel something building up inside of her; something that scared her, a darkness that she couldn't control. She swallowed back a terrible feeling of sickness that washed over her and as she saw an instance of fear flash through Keats's stare she could tell that the energy was getting out of control. She wasn't used to it and it was getting harder to keep it at bay. It was seeping into her veins little by little; corroding her, eating away at her goodness and her light, and she knew she had to just get out of there and try to fight it away, if just for a moment. She threw the file to the ground with venom and listened to the sound of fluttering paper as the pages fell and settled over the floor. _"No fucking witch-hunt_!" she screamed and turned on her heels to march from the office. Keats's furious stare followed her, then turned back to address his team.

"That _woman_," he spat, "does not run this department. She does not tell you what to do. Do you understand me?"

One of the team began to speak up a little.

"But –"

"She's nothing but a trumped-up detective who jumped in feet first," the team had no idea of how accurate his words truly were, "and found we were too much for her to handle. She'll be moved out in good time; until then you answer to _me_. Not her. Do you understand that?" A wall of silence and anxious faces greeted him and he fixed each and every one of them in a stern stare. "That _woman_ is not fit to walk these corridors and tomorrow you do whatever you need to in order to bring those two in. You'll be armed tomorrow. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if we brought in a stone with a hole through the middle."

He couldn't take the looks on their faces one moment longer and with a slam of the door he exited the office, striding furiously along the corridor where he came to Kim's office. He found her pacing the room, walking in circles, and he was clearly the last person she expected to see by the shock on her face. She froze as he walked in the room and shut the door behind him, the inherent fear from his past actions paralysing her for a moment before he barked;

"What the hell did you think you were doing out there, Kimberley?"

"_Kim,"_ she hissed.

"What?"

"_It's Kim,"_ her voice trembled as she spoke but only partly from fear. It was mostly because she was doing her best to keep parts of her under control, the parts of her that were filling with darkness and hatred.

Keats circled her, his glare fixed upon her as she turned slowly to watch him.

"You're going to fuck up this operation for me," he spat.

"How exactly am I going to do that?" she challenged.

"No one undermines my authority, Kimberley!"

"You _have_ no authority over me," Kim hissed, her fear giving way to fury, "I'm your equal."

"You'll never be my equal!" Keats yelled but found himself regretting that action as something snapped inside of Kim and she reached forward unexpectedly to grab a handful of the hair on his head which she yanked forward quite suddenly causing him to give a shriek as his glasses fell down to the end of his nose.

"_I'm a fucking DCI, Keats,"_ she hissed, "and you've got no control over me. Not in rank, not in any other way."

"Oh yeah –" Keats attempted to challenge her as he ripped here hand from his head and gripped her wrist but with her other arm she slapped him hard across the face . For a moment he froze in shock, then turned his face back to her angrily. "You're such a stupid little –"

"If you call me a little girl then I _swear_, heaven help me, I am going to insert my fist up your backside and extract your internal organs one by one," Kim spat, pulling her wrist from his grasp.

Keats couldn't quite believe that she was answering him back, nor that _anyone_ was challenging him, let alone the _little blonde girl_ he'd once had under his control with a stare and tainted air. He shook with anger but fixed his eyes upon hers and attempted to take her back to that time, to those days when his eyes could bend her will.

"I think you should calm down, Kimberley," he began, changing his voice to speak to her deeply the way that he once did but his words had no effect on her as she instead thrust her fist in his direction, making contact with his cheekbone and sending him backward by inches. His surprised wail of agony sent a ripple of pleasure through her and to her disgust she realised it wasn't because it was _Keats_ who was feeling it, she was simply experiencing pleasure in exchange for causing pain. She swallowed as her eyes widened and nausea swept up inside of her.

_"Oh my god,"_ she breathed and took a step back just in time to see Keats steadying himself and turning back to her. Flames of anger raged in his eyes and he stepped forward. Kim was awash with a sick mix of fear and anger, moving back toward her desk as he encroached upon her, his expression wavering between shock, confusion and utter rage.

"I was right the first time," he said, adding one word with every step, "you silly… little… _girl." _

"_Get away from me,"_ Kim hissed, "_step back,"_ she bumped against her desk and could go no further, "_step back!"_ but as Keats moved his face directly in front of hers she could tell that he wasn't going to listen to her demands. She reached behind her and grasped the first thing that came to hand, a glass ball paperweight which she quickly thrust forward, knocking him in the chest like a mini-cannonball. He stepped back giving a gasp of pain and surprise which was followed up by another as Kim grabbed for another object, a stapler, and threw it towards him where it struck him on the forehead, bounding sideways and leaving a red mark against his skin. She could see a split second of anger in which she knew he was about to retaliate but the red mists had closed upon her and she felt a wild fury like never before in her bones. Giving an almost inhuman cry she grabbed the pen pot from her desk and threw it at the wall where the plastic shattered, sending stationery in all directions. She barely registered Keats ducking and covering his head, nor the look of absolute horror on his face as she sent her in-tray flying. "_This fucking world_," she growled like some sort of angered animal, "get out of my –" she grabbed the monitor perched atop the hard drive of her computer and, despite its weight, managed to throw it with enough force to hit the wall, "_head!"_

As the monitor hit the wall three things happened simultaneously; the first was that Keats's face wore an expression of fear like Kim had never seen in her life. The second was that her own face wore the same. The expressions they both wore were caused by the third thing, the sight that shocked and terrified them both in entirely different ways. The walls and ceiling had vanished in a flash, replaced by flame that burned and scorched the air around them. Kim's shocked and terrified eyes moved around the room, absorbing the fearful sight. She could feel something invading her mind; a darkness like she had never felt before. It was absorbing her, eroding her a little at a time and she knew now that soon there would be nothing left of Kim Stringer.

Her eyes met Keats's; staring on in terror. For the first time he recognised the power that Kim had; the power she had stolen. He could feel his own energy slipping away from him, the power he had fading as she became ever stronger. He started to shake his head as though in denial as the flames began to fade and walls returned in their place, then with a cry of absolute revulsion Kim ran out of the room and as far from it as she could.

Down one corridor she fled, then another, then another. She flew up stair cases as sobs of devastation racked her chest. By the time she reached the top of the station and finally found an abandoned room her heart was thumping and her head was spinning. She closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the door, panting as she wept. She could hear a strange beeping in her head growing louder and more incessant all the time. She covered her ears and screamed at the top of her lungs until every last molecule of breath left her body.

She grabbed up the phone beside the photocopier and thumped out a number. Once again confronted by the answerphone, she listed angrily to the familiar message then screamed her response down the line.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Hunt?" she cried, "How many times can I beg you to arrest him?" she closed her eyes and wiped them roughly against the sleeve of her shirt. "This is the last time you're going to hear from me. I can't fight this anymore. Soon there'll be nothing left," she held back the vomit that threatened to come forth as she realised what she was saying, "there's nothing left of me… and I don't know… don't think I can stop him…" she took a deep breath, "Tomorrow. He's going to get them. Nailer and Stone. It's not a legal arrest, it's a witch-hunt. He's going to see them dead, I know it. Stop him. Stop him and…" she didn't know what else to say, "…and tell Robin…" her eyes closed tighter and she gulped back tears, "Tell Rob I…" her words ran out, her mind shutting down as a veil of darkness swept over her and with a trembling hand she dropped the receiver before sinking to the ground with a desperate gloom closing over her mind.

A line from the song that had accompanied her through her final night of life came back to her;

_She had become like they are._

And she had. She had become another Keats.

With her last thought of light she hoped and prayed that this time her message would not lay unheard.

And then Kimberley Stringer gave in to darkness.

**~xXx~**

**A/N: I'm sorry! Things were going far too well in the last two chapters… Also this should have been up hours ago but FFnet has been timing out for me all day, sorry *kicks it***


	15. Chapter 12: The Taste of Truth

**Chapter 12**

Victoria's expression was anxious but her determination ensured that she would stand strong despite the onset of nerves.

"Tonight?" she whispered quietly into the dim, early morning light.

She could see Nailer nodding, his silhouette nervous but sure.

"_Tonight_," he repeated in a whisper.

The sensation of a hand closing over his own sent a kind of reassurance through him that he'd never had through all his years in a difficult business. Victoria's touch spurred him on. This was a little more than some sort of irresponsible fling. This was for life. Quite suddenly that became very clear indeed.

~xXx~

Gene stared at the red light on the phone. At least it wasn't flashing now. He hated seeing it flashing, not least of all because he usually couldn't remember what button to press to make it stop. He swallowed as he looked around the office, feeling unnerved and lost. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking? Had his head been in the clouds?

"No, buried in the bloody sand, more like," he mumbled as he spotted Robin entering the room. He ran is tongue along his dry lips and wiped them over with the side of his hand. He knew he couldn't ignore this one. He knew he was wrong for ignoring all the others too. And he knew that he was going to reduce a man to a wreck but he couldn't leave Robin in the dark. Feeling enormous reluctance he crossed the almost empty office to the desk where Robin was busy draping his jacket over the back of his chair.

"Morning, Batman," he said.

Robin looked at him stifling a yawn.

"Bloody hell, you must have been up at the crack of dawn," he said, "I wasn't expecting to find my sofa empty this morning."

Gene shifted uncomfortably. Even though he and Alex had started to communicate again he was still commandeering Robin's couch. They'd both thought it best to spend some time apart while they worked on things so that they could work on their own issues individually before bringing things back together.

"Yeah, had a few things playing on me mind," Gene told him. All night long the message had plagued him, running through his head while he was awake and through his nightmares when he finally went to sleep. Eventually he'd given in and returned to the phone that had delivered the news to listen to the message all over again.

"You could have left some hot water," Robin mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He hadn't had the best night's sleep either.

It was two weeks since the night of his birthday and he was only just truly over his hangover. What had started off as the worst birthday on record had quickly turned into a far more positive experience culminating in Robin's first smile in weeks. Thanks to Gene's persuasion techniques half the station arrived and all promptly furnished Robin with drinks. By the time closing time rolled around he was more or less unconscious and babbling about frosty goats. A concerned Alex insisted that Gene drive him home, especially since Robin had been threatening to fly. When he'd woken up in the morning his mouth felt like the inside of Simon's guinea pig cage and his head throbbed with the power of a vice but he remembered two things from the night before; Jake asking him to dance and the feeling that he truly had friends on his side.

He wasn't entirely sure where things were going with Jake. A few days earlier they had gone for the promised drink. Jake had been nervous and all talk of election night had been avoided. There wasn't so much as a peck on the cheek at the end. But there was something there that Robin couldn't quite put his finger on._ A connection._ He hoped that Jake would give it a chance to develop.

"_Robin."_

Robin's thoughts were interrupted by Gene's unusually grim tone.

"W-why are you not giving me a disrespectful nickname?" Robin asked suspiciously.

Gene sighed internally. This was it. He had no choice but to tell him.

"Got something you need to listen to," he said.

"If it's a tape of you snoring I've had the live version every night for the last six weeks," Robin rubbed his eyes but Gene's expression stayed grim. He nodded toward his desk and simply walked away leaving Robin to follow in silence, nerves prickling his skin. Whatever Gene wanted him to hear he had a feeling he was going to be reaching for a bottle of something in the very near future.

~xXx~

"Best leave London completely until this blows over," Nailer shuffled notes around and handed a pile to Andrew Carter but he shook his head.

"I don't need your cash, Nick, you know that. I'm doing OK."

"Call it danger money."

"_You're_ the one doing the dangerous bit."

"Compensation then," he shook his head, "Fuck, I'm not going to let this keep happening."

"How do you know this is legit?" Carter asked, "I'm barely _in_ the business now."

"You're still one of the highest names on my Christmas card list," Nailer reminded him, "it's hard to know how much of this is business and how much is grudge. Can't take the risk, mate." Carter still seemed unsure so with a sigh Nailer said, "look, what's the worst that can happen? Someone's fed me duff information, you get week's holiday in the Cotswolds and I waste a night sitting in your basement with a pair of binoculars."

"No, the worst that can happen is that this is real and we both end up with our brains splattered on the walls," Andrew told him.

"I see your glass is still half empty," Nailer commented but despite the situation there was a friendly and familiar vibe in the air. Nailer had missed being around people he knew so well. He missed London. He missed home. "Get moving, mate. Go on, piss off. I'll keep your trucks warm while you're away."

Carter hesitated. He still had reservations about the whole thing but it didn't do to argue with someone as determined as Nailer. He nodded slowly and held out his hand.

"Missed your stubble around these parts," he said.

Nailer grined and shook the man's hand.

"See you in seven days," he said, knowing full well that he would be gone by then. If he wasn't dead or arrested he'd be back lapping up the sunshine. But it didn't seem necessary to point that out.

He watched Carter leave and felt his spirits sinking. He'd already lost his friends and trusted peers to whomever had decided to pick them off one by one. Enough was enough, it was time to put a stop to the witch-hunt.

"Tonight," he mumbled as he felt for the gun beneath his coat.

~xXx~

_"…Tomorrow. He's going to get them. Nailer and Stone. It's not a legal arrest, it's a witch-hunt. He's going to see them dead, I know it. Stop him. Stop him and… and tell Robin… tell Rob I…"_

As there was a crash and a click signalling the message ending Robin felt his legs give way from underneath him and someone grasped his arm tightly.

"Knew you'd go as floppy as one of yer pieces of homemade tagliatelle," Gene mumbled as he guided Robin towards his chair and allowed him to sit down in it.

Robin could feel his heart pounding, almost as though it couldn't beat fast enough. He breathed in and out, making sure that he took in as much oxygen as his body needed not to give up completely and his hand rose to his chest.

"Fucking hell," he murmured as Gene folded his arms in his lap and leant him back against the back of the chair. He reached into his pocket and fished out his flask which was the only thing he could think of doing but Robin batted it away, "Don't like scotch," he mumbled, "and besides, it's too early."

Gene shrugged and placed it down on the desk.

"Trying to keep you conscious, that's all," he said.

"I'm very conscious," Robin muttered "far too conscious. I don't want to deal with this, I don't…" he eyed up the flask and did the fastest U-turn in history. Grabbing for it, he unscrewed the cap and took a few deep gulps which stopped only when Gene pulled it from his hands.

"Oi! I offered you a drop, not a piss-up!" he cried.

Robin roughly wiped his lips, spluttering a little from the taste he hated.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Whatever happened to it being too early?" Gene demanded.

"Oh, what the fuck, like I can see the bloody time," Robin shrugged as he stared at the still clock on the wall, "it could be half ten at night for all I know!" he breathed in deeply again and then looked up at Gene. "I can't…" he trailed off. "Why is she calling you? Why not me?"

"Probably because _I'm_ not slipping her one between rivets!" Gene pointed out.

"What did she mean by _the last time she'll contact you?!"_ Robin demanded, "has she called you before?"

Gene wasn't quite ready to admit that this wasn't the first message he'd received. He was starting to emerge from whatever strange period of self-doubt and depression had enveloped him and was finding his own behaviour over the last couple of months difficult to accept.

"She doesn't quite sound herself, Batman," he said instead, "probably doesn't know what she was saying. Jimbo's worming 'is way into her brain."

"No, he's not," Robin shook his head slowly, "that _place_ is… but _he's_ not…" he looked at Gene, "why are you playing me this?"

Gene wasn't sure exactly.

"If I work that one out, I'll tell you," he said.

Robin stared at the phone.

"What do you think she wanted you to tell me?" he asked quietly, "at the end… she said tell Rob…"

"I think we both know that," Gene said, not wanting to spell it out. This wasn't romance corner; there was another part of her message that he needed to address. "Nailer. Stone. Witch-hunt." He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms, "makes sense. Got papers through from Interpol. They've been back on the radar. Couple of sightings in the Med and then they appeared back in good old blighty."

"I don't understand," Robin said, still feeling dazed from hearing Kim's voice, "why is she calling _you_ about it? What's happening?"

"Sounds like Jimbo's looking to teach his old DI that she can't enjoy a package holiday when it's an escaped drug baron whose 'package' is on the menu," Gene told him.

"Guv," a slightly flustered PC approached, "there's a fax down in uniform for you."

"Does this look like a good time to unjam a few sock adverts from some machine that spews out ink like it's going out of business?" Gene barked.

"Looks important, Guv. Official. It's from Fenchurch West."

Gene froze momentarily then glanced at Robin who looked just as shocked.

"Sounds like this might be something I need to read," he said, "excuse me, Batman," and he followed the officer away leaving a shaken and anxious Robin sitting in his chair. His heart was still pounding from hearing Kim' s voice and he couldn't calm it down. He breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

"_Fuck_, Kim," he whispered, trying hard not to let the tears that had started pricking his eyes begin to fall, "why won't you talk to me?" he bit his lip and closed his eyes, replaying her words through his head. Every time he thought he was getting used to being without her the wound opened up again and felt more painful than before. He sat forward and opened his eyes, reaching towards the phone. He knew he shouldn't – he should have waited for Gene – but he just had to hear it again. He wanted to listen to her words. He wanted to hear her voice. He pressed the button to replay the message but to his surprise the machine announced;

_"You have eight saved messages. Replaying messages._

"Oh _no, no, no,"_ Robin stood up and tried to stop them, "I only wanted to hear the last –"

"_Message one:"_

"No, I don't want –"

_"Guv…"_ That one word was enough to stop Robin and freeze him to the spot. There it was; that voice. _Her_ voice. "_No one must know I'm calling you. Do not tell a soul. I need your help. You have to listen to me. I can't get the charges against Keats to stick here. The fucking walls have a boner for him. This place keeps him safe. You have to arrest him on behalf of Fenchurch East. Get Rob and Alex to press charges and arrest him from there, or he'll get away with it. and please, stay safe."_

Robin's chest burned suddenly with shock at hearing her voice and the horror of her words but before he could think things through or do anything the phone piped up again;

"_Message two."_

"_Mister Hunt, it's us again. Look, we appreciate you're a busy man but if you don't pick a colour for your walls we can't start decorating. Just give us a general idea. Blue. White. Grey." There was a sigh, "Call us."_

"_Message Three."_

"_Good morning, this is a message for DCI Hunt. This is doctor Nape from Fenchurch General. We've been waiting to catch you to speak to you about your son but the nurses say you haven't been in recently. It's… an important matter, I'm afraid. Please could you call me at your earliest convenience? Ask to be put through directly at the main switchboard. Thank you."_

"_Message four."_

"_Mister Hunt, we waited long enough. Chased you up every day for the last three weeks. If you don't tell us a colour by the end of today we'll find any old colour to paint your office. I hope you like puce."_

Message Five."

"DCI Hunt, this is now an urgent matter. It involves your son's life support. There are decisions to be made. We are running a final round of tests. Depending on the outcome…." A pause. "Please return this call as soon as possible. Thank you."

Robin sank back shakily into the chair, his hand to his mouth as he listened on.

"_Message six."_

_"I told you to fucking charge him!"_ Oh god – it was her again…. It was Kim… _"Why the hell has no one pulled him in yet? You've let me down, Guv! You've fucking let me down!"_

"_Message Seven"_

"_DCI Hunt… This is Doctor Nape. I am so sorry that we had to deliver that news yesterday. It is never easy. But it's looking less likely every day that Simon's going to regain consciousness. The kindest thing to do right now…" it sounded as though he sighed. "Please return to the hospital at the nearest opportunity. The important thing now is to let him pass with dignity."_

As Robin let out a gasp that tangled itself with a sob the machine announced message number eight and familiar words began to play.

_"What the fuck is wrong with you, Hunt? How many times can I beg you to arrest him? This is the last time you're going to hear from me. I can't fight this anymore. Soon there'll be nothing left… "there's nothing left of me… and I don't know… don't think I can stop him. Tomorrow. He's going to get them. Nailer and Stone. It's not a legal arrest, it's a witch-hunt. He's going to see them dead, I know it. Stop him. Stop him and… and tell Robin… Tell Rob I…"_

As the message ended and an automated voice announced; "_End of messages,"_ Robin realised he was no longer alone, a stricken Gene was standing nearby, his skin pale from hearing the messages he'd been trying to deny existed. He stared at Robin, feeling like his insides were being slowly ripped apart.

"Weren't supposed to hear those," he mumbled.

Robin stared back as his guts churned nastily.

"God, Gene," he hissed, "what the hell is going on?"

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sorry sorry sorry sorry! The next chapter will be long; it's the climax of the story so it might take a few days before I have it ready to post but I'm going to see if I can update one of my side fics in the meanwhile. Any preferences? First request gets done!**_


	16. Chapter 13: The Misery of the Man

**Chapter 13**

Robin felt like he was drowning. In fact, that's what he wished that he was doing. Drowning meant dying and dying meant that he didn't have to think about the words that he'd heard playing out of the answerphone. He stared at Gene like a kid expecting their parent to make everything better when someone had just told him that Father Christmas did not exist.

Gene stared back, knowing that his issues of the last couple of months were biting him on the backside with all the force of Simon's crocodile in a bad mood. He looked grimly at Robin and slowly shook his head.

"Not been myself," he said, knowing that was the understatement of the decade.

"Simon's dying?" Robin's voice couldn't have been any lower as he tried to process the messages he'd listened to, the ones he'd heard accidentally but that would never leave his memory.

"I told you, Batman, I haven't been meself," Gene said a little more loudly.

"You were _ignoring_ the calls from the _hospital_?" Robin's face creased with anger as he got back slowly to his feet, "you stopped going… you avoided seeing him…"

"I've been stupid," Gene admitted flatly and honestly but Robin wasn't finished.

"They're turning off his _life support?"_

"They want me to tell them what to do," Gene seemed to shake a little as he admitted that. Telling people what to do used to be second nature to the man. Now it was his most dreaded task.

"And what are you going to tell them?" Robin demanded but from Gene's blank expression it was clear he didn't know. Robin swallowed as he thought about the other messages. "And Kim… she's called you before?" he stared at Gene as he stayed silent. "How many times?"

Gene knew he had to start being honest.

"What you heard there… is all there is," he said.

"She's been begging you to arrest him!" Robin cried, _"Keats_. I just thought… just assumed… that he'd been dealt with… he spouted a load of crap when I went over there… my god, _this_ was what he meant? He'd been let off the hook by Fenchurch West, hadn't he?" He saw Gene's expression grow darker, "Kim wanted you to arrest him, didn't she? She begged you to do it because that was the only way of getting the charges to stick." His anger was growing. _"Answer me!"_

"You want to keep your volume to a level where you can't be heard by the idiots getting hitched up at Gretna Green!" Gene barked, then immediately dropped his own voice a little. "_Yes_. Your galvanised lover wanted me to arrest him."

"Then why didn't you?" Robin demanded.

"You want to know why?" Gene turned and aimed his finger to the far side of the office where Alex was entering and hanging up her coat. "There it is. That's me reason."

Robin blinked.

"I don't understand."

"How was I going to stand putting her through that?" Gene growled, "you've seen the state of her since the night Blair booked the removal men. I arrest that _sweat gland_ and she's going to have to press charges and give evidence, otherwise it won't stick."

"What about me?" Robin demanded, "he had me tied up, staring at his bloody carpet all night. He knocked me so senseless that even my eyebrows had concussion. I'll charge him. I'll arrest him."

"You think that's a good idea, do you?" Gene hissed, "storming in there with yer handcuffs? _I'm arresting you for tying me to yer desk leg!" _he shook his head.

"So _you_ do the arresting!" Robin cried.

"I would gladly march round there and read him his rights," Gene hissed, "unfortunately beyond that it's out of me hands. I'm not the one he poked with his pork chop. I'm not the one with a dent in me head the size of a moon crater." He noticed Robin involuntarily reach up to feel the shape of his head, "I can go and shove the cuffs around his wrists, Robin," the rare use of his name made Robin stop and listen, "but dragging him down to the cells will do no good if there's no one to stand up in court and tell the man with the stupid wig why."

"_I'll_ do it," Robin said fiercely, "I'll press charges. In fact it would be my pleasure." He clenched his fists with anger as he thought about that night. He could still feel the pain in his head, hear the evil words that Keats taunted him with, relive the fear that ran through his veins with every passing moment. Quite suddenly he felt his stomach churning and a horrible sensation washed up inside him as he placed his hand across his mouth and swallowed. Gene stared at him as he sank back into his chair.

"Interesting shade of green, Batman," he commented dryly, "lime, if I'm not mistaken."

Robin swallowed.

"Feel a bit queasy," he mumbled.

"You see that? If the thought of standing up and reliving yer night of fun and games at Jimbo's expense turns your stomach imagine what it's going to do to her."

He turned and looked at Alex, sitting down at her desk, her expression looking brighter than the one she'd worn of late.

"It was the scotch," Robin mumbled, still in danger of spilling the contents of his gut over the desk.

"If one of the main ingredients of scotch was Jimbo's face," Gene said sarcastically. He breathed in deeply and regarded Robin seriously. "listen, Dogface. She's been to hell and back, literally. Keats and his ambulance has damn near torn us apart. Wouldn't talk to me for weeks. Pushed me out me own home. All because she couldn't bear to talk about it. Didn't want me there. Didn't want anyone near enough to ask her how she was doing. Didn't want anyone who might be in danger of laying a finger in her body. Only just got her to say two words to me, Robin. Your birthday. A couple of drinks. Even dinner Monday night. Seeing her come back bit by bit… not going to let her fade away."

"She doesn't have to do anything," Robin insisted, "_I'll_ press charges."

"You press charges and she'll be questioned. You know that."

"I'll insist that she shouldn't be brought into it."

"It'll be a criminal investigation! They'll call her in just like you would if this was some run of the mill maniac raping and pillaging in the village."

Robin closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly. He hated that Gene was right, but he also knew that they couldn't let Keats get aw\y with what he'd done.

"I can't believe you'd let him get off scott-free," he said quietly.

"No one said I was letting him off."

"You said you weren't going to arrest him so Alex wouldn't be involved!"

"I hadn't made me up me mind what to do!"

Robin sighed angrily.

"That's you all over these days, isn't it?" he barked ad regretted his tone the instant Gene's fist clenched around his collar.

"One decision I've no trouble making is how to test out me new filing cabibnets," he threatened

Robin gulped and pushed Gene's fist away.

"Fuck's sake!" he mumbled, not even sure who he was cursing at, Gene or himself.

Gene shook his head.

"I know me head's been scrambled," he held up his hands, "but you think I'm the only one? Look at the rest of you, Batman. There's Alex in her thirteen jumpers, covering more flesh than the bloody BBC censors. There's you and the ten pounds of cake in yer belly from spending yet another night in the kitchen."

"Don't hear you complaining about the freebies," Robin mumbled defensively.

"Then there's bloody _Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil, See No Evil,_" Gene snapped indicating Jake, Marci and Shaz in turn.

"What -? How the hell are they that?" Robin cried.

"Dawson won't say two bloody words to anyone, Marci's wrapped in cotton wool by the rest of the station and Shaz is in cloud cuckoo land!"

"Come on, you're being unfair, Gene"

"Am I? Everyone throws the venom in my direction for finding it hard to pick a colour for me walls when you're all falling apart too!"

Robin stared at Gene.

"I think there are some more important things that your walls at stake," he said angrily, "don't you?"

Gene knew that. He was only making a point, but suddenly he realised the magnitude of his mistakes. He almost couldn't believe how much he'd changed and how badly he was dealing with everything that he'd been through. It was so unlike him to crumble. He stared at Alex and inside he realised why. When Alex changed so did he. She'd always been his support, his rock, his lynchpin. Without her he had nothing to keep him standing tall.

"I've messed things up more than that Llewellyn-Bowen idiot does with a plank of MDF," he confessed, "and now I need to get me head out the sand and put things right. But as far as Bolly goes," he looked up at her again and this time she caught his eye, throwing a little smile his way. He did his best to appear calm and nodded to her before he turned back to Robin. "I'm taking this slower than a plot in Eastenders. You hear me, Batman? One thing at a time. Deal with _this_ first. Nailer. Stone. The wild West. Then I'll see how she's coping."

Robin wasn't entirely satisfied but he could understand Gene's thinking.

"Well for what it's worth," he said quietly, "you can put me down for standing in the dock and giving my story.

Gene looked at Robin's expression, haunted but determined. He nodded.

"Maybe skip the scorch that morning," he said.

Robin tried to laugh but it came out as a heavy breath. He felt his heart growing heavy as he whispered;

"_Simon."_

Gene's eyes closed. He tried hard to keep his expression as neutral as possible but it was hard.

"You shouldn't have had to hear it like that," he admitted.

"Please tell me it's not true," Robin's voice weakened with every word. "they… they were talking about… the kindest way…"

"Robin, I won't lie to you," Gene's voice took on a note Robin had never heard before, "things are not looking good."

"You're switching him off," Robin whispered.

"They've put the decision in my hands," Gene nodded.

"You can't be serious!" Robin cried frantically.

"They've run tests and it's not looking good."

"What kind of tests?"

"Tests to see why the stupid bugger won't open his eyes," Gene said gruffly, "bleed on the brain. Not sure how it started, or when. Bloody swimming pool of the stuff in there."

"B-but that's what happened to Alex," Robin began, his eyes widening with a glimmer of hope, "in the real world. There was a bleed… They operated to relieve the pressure and she woke up."

"Robin –"

"So operate on Simon and he could wake up too."

"Operate on him? What, in the back of me car?"

"You know what I meant!" Robin began to get flustered, "get _them_ to operate on him!"

"It's not that easy."

"What's not easy? They've told you to pull the plug, tell them to piss off and cut his head open!"

"Nice plan, Stringer!" barked Gene, "thanks for imparting your medical knowledge gleaned at the College of Being an Ignorant Twat!"

"_Str-_ what the hell are you calling me that for?!" Robin demanded, "it was bad enough when you were calling me _Mister_ Stringer! Now I don't even get that much?"

"Come on, it's obvious who wears the trousers in your relationship!"

"Have you ever seen me in a flouncy dress" Robin cried, slightly aware that half the office had heard and were now staring at him in an attempt to imagine whether he'd have hairy legs or knobbly knees peeking out from beneath the material. He turned a deep shade of red and lowered his voice. "Anyway, that's beside the point," he hissed and Gene gave a deep sigh.

"Hospital's reluctant to operate," he muttered.

"Why?"

"Because," Gene felt his guts churning, "the odds are not in his favour."

"W-what _are_ the odds?" Robin asked quietly.

Gene's eyes seemed to change from blue to stony grey.

"He has an eighty-five percent chance of failing to survive the operation," he said, watching Robin's skin grow paler as he spoke. He sighed involuntarily. "Yeah. They're not looking as good as our conviction rate."

"Alex's were fifty-fifty," Robin whispered.

"Hospital says he's not strong enough to make it."

"But you still have to try."

"I don't want him dragged through surgery he can't survive, Batman. Give the man a bit of dignity."

"_Dignity?_ Like being abandoned in hospital by his bloody father?"

"Beg your pardon, or did you just make a request to meet the filing cabinet in me office?"

"You've only been to see him about three times in all the weeks he's been stuck in that place!"

"You seen the state of him?"

"_Yes!_ Have you?"

"Can't stand to see the man like that. That's not Simon."

"You think t was easy for Simon to see you after that twat knocked you into two thousand and twelve?" cried Robin, "it's no different!" he could see that Gene was feeling worse with every second. He hesitated and took a deep breath. Nothing was going to be gained by guilting Gene into anything. "So," he began quietly, "what are you going to do?"

Gene shook his head slowly.

"You're asking the man who couldn't choose a shade o'white for his office walls," Gene reminded him.

"You have to at least try, Gene. You have to give him a chance."

"Hospital thinks it's hopeless."

"And you?" Robin waited but Gene didn't reply. "You have to at least give him a chance to fight."

"And what if he doesn't want to?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Look at the facts, Batman. What's he got to live for? He was standing on the edge not so long ago. He's got a job that's made him scared of toasters, the love of his life dumped him to stick it in his best friend and his guinea pigs are still green from a hideous dying incident a year ago. Maybe he's better where he is," Gene hated himself for thinking it, let alone saying it, but he couldn't help thinking of his own coma. "What if he's somewhere? What if he's in another one of these new-fangled dimension things? Maybe he woke up waking down the aisle with you in yer wedding dress."

"Or maybe he woke up in a dimension full of horny geese, there's no way of knowing," Robin said crossly, "he might not be anywhere! We don't know. But you have to give him the chance to fight, Gene. You have to give him that much."

Gene didn't know what to do for the best. He didn't know whether Robin was right or whether to give Simon the dignity of passing away quietly. And quite frankly it was too much to consider.

"I need to think," he said grimly, "but now is not the time. Now there is a drug dealer and an ex DI about to end up full of holes and we need to stick our noses in before the West is won."

"The West has already won," Robin said quietly, "it's got Kim."

"Perhaps," Gene nodded, "but it's not _quite_ conquered yet."

Robin frowned.

"Meaning?"

Gene held out a long sheet of paper, messily printed by the fax machine.

"Your better half had one last gift for us, it seems," he said, "every detail we need to know about Nailer. Names, places, times. It's a crib sheet."

Robin took the sheet, shaking just a little.

"It's from Kim?" he whispered.

"Unless there are more friends on the other side," said Gene.

"Doubt it," Robin whispered as Gene took the sheet back.

"Dry yer bloody eyes before yer eyeliner leaves a puddle on me desk!" he demanded, "and get your backside out of me chair." He nodded towards the office, "time to do Stringer proud, Robin." He swallowed. "She made the leap for this. Let's not let her down."

Suddenly his strength and determination began to return. There was a job to be done.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I ended up splitting this chapter up because Gene and Robin went in arguing too long! The next chapter will see the rest of the climax to the story. I'm trying to get some more writing done, I'm so frustrated by how slowly I'm writing at the moment. Some friendly encouragement would be a very good thing. Or just, you know, kicking my arse!**_


	17. Chapter 14: The Wait for the West

**Chapter 14**

Robin stood, arms folded, watching Gene as he spoke. The words from the answerphone were still playing through his mind and he couldn't get them to stop. Haunted with thoughts of Simon dying and Kim begging for help he could barely keep his attention on the matter at hand but with a firm shake of his head he tried to get his focus back.

"This is more than worrying, this is as shocking as Bammo's superman underpants," Gene said grimly as the line of confused and anxious faces stared back, "we've been given all of the details. We're in the best position to stop it."

"E-excuse me," Jake asked his hand like a kid asking a question in class, "I don't really understand. Nick Nailer escaped from prison seven months ago?" he hesitated as Gene nodded. "So we're… gate-crashing Fenchurch West's operation to arrest him? We're trying to steal the glory?"

"Jake, no," Robin interrupted, shaking his head.

"Gate-crashing, no. Shit-stopping, yes," said Gene, "This operation is a scrappy set-up. The bloody thing will never stand up in court as it is. This isn't a plan to catch the rat in a trap, this is all about mister Jim Keats teaching his old DI a lesson for running with the bad boys." He glanced at Alex to see how she had dealt with the mention of his name. There was a dark look on her face but she kept herself together. "Sure I don't need to remind you that I'll be standing up in court as a witness in the not too distant future. Victoria Stone was his verbal, mental and physical punch bag. I never thought I'd say this but she was better of running with a drug dealer."

"Can I just remind you that we need to stop Fenchurch West from using unnecessary force and firearms, not to recapture Nick Nailer or take DI Stone in," Robin interrupted.

"I… assumed we would be there to do both?" Jake frowned.

"Excuse me, Sir," Shaz spoke up, "are you telling us _not_ to arrest them if we have the chance?"

Shaz, Jake and Mari looked sheepish and confused by the situation. And why _wouldn't_ they? None of them knew. None of them understood. Robin felt himself dying inside a little as he was reminded of his situation. He wished, not for the first time, that Simon was there by his side to back him up. The image of him lying in hospital still shook Robin inside. He was trying to work out feebly how to justify the thought of leaving Nailer on the loose but to his surprise and relief Gene stepped in with just the right lie.

"Got word that international powers are getting ready to pull them in," he said with utter conviction, "The West are stepping on their toes. What would you rather see; Keats filling them with lead or pulling off an operation that won't stand up in court and lets them back loose on the streets, or letting them have an extra week of freedom and facing the courts with no chance of getting off the hook?" There were nods amongst the gathering as the others weighed up his words and Robin flashed Gene a brief but thankful smile. He knew that Gene was still unhappy with Robin's determination to let Nailer walk free but he had reasons for that. "Listen closely. The reason you've been called in on this meeting o'minds is because, for some senseless reason, I feel like I can trust you all. Might live to regret it, mind you…" he looked at them sternly, "this is a very sensitive operation. Not a word goes beyond the six of us. Got that?" an array of nodding heads greeted him. "Good."

According to the tip-off we've been sent," Robin began, his heart jumping a little as his eyes scanned the page and saw Kim's handwriting in one corner. He paused, swallowing to try to regain his composure before he continued, "according to _this_ Keats has fed false information about Nailer's friend and associate Andrew Carter receiving a visit from the same people who have been picking off the local dealers one by one. If this is correct, Nailer and Stone will be waiting, possibly with some support, for the attack to take place at _Carter's Logistics_. Intelligence has placed them on the premises within the last twenty-four hours. The time of the attack has been pinpointed at ten which would be just before Carter leaves the premises on a regular night. Even playing it safe they're working on the assumption that they'll be in place by around nine, nine-thirty so they're going to have their team o'twats in place by eight at the latest." He scratched his head, so we'll be there before them."

"Shit, talk about _Watching The Detectives_," Jake tried to joke but only Robin laughed.

"Dawson, you'll be with Nicey Spice," Gene began, nodding at Jake then Marci in turn, "Alex, take Shaz. Batman, you're with me."

Alex's expression fell visibly as Gene side-lined her to another partner for the night.

"I thought –" she began but as Gene turned to her she changed her mind. "Nothing."

It wasn't as though Gene hadn't wanted to pair them up together. Christ, it would have been a real taste of the old days. But their relationship was still a little stilted. They were starting to spend more time in one another's company again but spending several hours alone in a car together could have been uncomfortable. He was terrified of pushing things too far, too fast.

"Actually, Guv," Robin began a little sheepishly, "maybe I should go with Jake." He glanced across at him and saw his lips twitch as though he was trying not to smile. "Doesn't make sense for you and I to both be on the same team when we're the ones with the plans. Shouldn't we spread out?"

"I'm not changing me plans, Batman, I've already made me list of things to taunt you about tonight, not letting that go to waste."

Jake cleared his throat.

"I don't mind the change," he said hopefully.

"What about me?" cried Marci, annoyed about being dumped.

"_I_ can go with Marci!" Shaz said quickly.

"_This isn't a bloody school trip to Heaver Castle!"_ Gene cried "yer not swapping partners on the coach home!"

"That's fine if Shaz wants to be with Marci," Alex piped up, "then Robin can go with Jake and I," she cleared her throat, "I'm… sure there's somewhere I can go…"

Gene looked at Alex, hesitant to believe that she wanted to be paired up with him but there was a look on her face that made him reconsider, and also to urgently cover himself up with the paperwork. It _had_ been a long time, after all. He cleared his throat and stared out over the sea of expectant, hopeful faces. It _was_... it really _was_ like trying to sort out coach partners for a school trip, except this wasn't about sitting with the mate who's bought the most sweets, this was about who wanted to get in each other's pants. He was also still somewhat annoyed at Robin for bringing up the subject of changing in the first place and scowled at him.

"Are my classy wheels not good enough for you?" he challenged.

"It just makes more sense the other way!" Robin protested.

"Not man enough to take a couple of jibes about yer frilly apron and superhero cape?"

"_Gene,"_ Robin scowled.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you change."

Robin put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips.

"My dog might piss in your car," he said.

Gene swallowed.

"Batman, you're with Dawson," he said quickly, ignoring Robin's smug grin, "Spicey, take Shaz. Bolly –" he hesitated as he realised he'd called her by that name again but despite a momentary flicker her expression barely changed. That was progress, he could see that. "DCI Drake, you will be accompanying me," he said, pausing as he surveyed the over-excited 'kids' greeting their new school trip partners. He sighed. "And bring a bloody packed lunch and a clipboard," he mumbled sarcastically.

~xXx~

"Could be at the club by now."

Shaz glanced at Marci who was busy pressing her fingernails into the steering wheel to make little Xs in the plastic.

"Pardon?" Shaz asked.

"If we weren't stuck here, staring at the road, waiting for one of their cars to go whizzing by," said Marci, "we could have been downing a couple of drinks and dancing the night away."

"Bit early isn't it?" Shaz checked her watch.

"Never too early," Marci said, a tiny smile on her lips.

Shaz looked at her. She seemed a little different that night. She wasn't sure what it was but there was a spark of the old Marci there, the pre-election night Marci.

"You haven't mentioned the club in weeks," Shaz reminded her. She noticed that Marci's eyes cast down for a moment and she hesitated in asking her next question but eventually decided to risk it. "You doing better?"

"A little," Marci said quietly. She looked at Shaz. "Is that bad?"

"Bad?" Shaz frowned and drew back for a moment, not quite understanding why until she realised. "Oh no, _no_ Marci, that's a _good_ thing," she said, her warm smile bringing Marci a little reassurance, "it means you're moving on."

"I know," Marci said quietly. She looked down, "that's what scares me."

"It scares you?" Shaz repeated.

Marci sucked against her top lip for a moment, rocking back and forth a little in her seat.

"Do you think people will think badly of me?" she asked.

"What for?"

"For getting back to normal?"

Shaz shook her head slowly.

"Everyone has to at some point," she said quietly, feeling only too aware that after losing Kim she never really had, "I know you miss him… you won't forget him… but you can't live in the shadow of his grave forever."

Marci nodded silently. She'd been in such a strange position. Her relationship with Eddie was only just beginning when he died and she wasn't sure whether she had the right to be the grieving partner. Yet now that some time had passed and she was beginning to move on she feared the reverse; that others would see it as too soon.

"Thanks, Shaz," she said quietly with a smile. That smile was so beautiful and so much brighter than Shaz had seen it for weeks. It made Shaz smile back. The life that she saw slowly coming back into the pretty young detective's expression sent a little shiver through her body that she hadn't felt in a very, very long time, and she felt very glad indeed that the pairs had swapped around that night.

~xXx~

There was silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but there was still silence. For what it was worth, Alex was just enjoying the feeling of sitting beside Gene as though everything was normal and nothing had happened to come between them. She glanced at him as he tried to look through binoculars, drink scotch and check Kim's fax all at the same time. He ended up tipping scotch in his eye and trying to drink the binoculars

Gene caught her laughing just for a second and feigned annoyance as she wrestled her giggles under control.

"Couldn't watch Ready Steady Cook so I'm the next best thing to light entertainment am I?" he asked.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Alex smirked lightly as Gene managed to put the right item to his lips to take a long swig of scotch, "I was just… thinking of a joke…"

"_A joke,"_ Gene repeated flatly.

"A funny joke that Robin told me."

"Right. A joke from the one-man cabaret known as Batman."

"I _was!"_ Alex lied as her slight giggles returned.

"This would be the joke about the pinnacle of masculinity who washes out his eyeballs with scotch, would it?" he asked and Alex bit her lip as she smiled.

"I really am sorry," she lied.

"Course you are," Gene said as he offered out his flask but she turned it down. He tucked it away and brought the binoculars back to his eyes. "Instead of watching me humiliate meself why don't you watch for the enemy men of the west?"

"Sorry," Alex smiled as she watched Gene staring out of the window, surveying the scene. She leaned back with a strange shudder travelling down her spine. It was so peculiar; the familiarity despite everything that had happened in recent times. "It's like travelling back to the past," she said quietly, "like being back in the old days. On a stake-out. You and I, you with your flask…"

"Just like the old days," Gene mumbled as he put down his binoculars, "except a few more wrinkles on the old forehead."

"Speak for yourself!" Alex said indignantly. The younger body that she'd travelled back in after finding her way back to Gene's world still talking some getting used to. It made the age gap between them appear wider than before, not that it mattered. Inside she was still the same Alex. It just looked like she'd gone through an extraordinarily good face lift. She looked down a little, her voice quiet as she spoke. "It's nice though."

Gene turned to her, surprised to hear those words.

"Me wrinkles?"

"You know what I mean."

He thought that he did, but after the way things had fallen apart he didn't take anything for granted. Nodding and grunting, he stared out if the windscreen again, waiting for any sign of life.

"You feel like a visit to the bar when this is over?" he asked, "only staring out the window for hours seems to dry me mouth out."

"Depends," Alex said, trying not to smile, "who's paying?"

Gene stared straight ahead, working hard to keep the smirk at bay.

"Perhaps Mister Nailer has a few quid to spare."

"Oh bollocks, _I_ paid last time."

"All the more reason to catch the twat."

"I thought we were supposed to be letting him go?"

"Call it a bribe."

"Beer money?"

"A very reasonable bribe."

Silence fell again but there were smiles drifting into the evening air. There was a long way to go but things were beginning to move in the right direction again. They weren't just Alex and Gene, they were drifting back to being Bolly and the Guv again. That was something to hold onto.

~xXx~

"_Watching the Detectives,"_ Robin smiled as he repeated Jake's earlier words. He laughed gently as he fished for a sandwich and caught a glimpse of Jake smiling back. "You got that right. I can think of things I'd rather be watching than Keats and his minions."

"Don't think I'll ever listen to the song in the same light again," Jake commented.

"Elvis Costello fan?" Robin asked him and Jake nodded.

"Some of his stuff, yeah," he said.

"That song came out the year Si-" Robin began but stopped abruptly as he was about to say it had been released the year Simon was born. _That_ would have been a smart move, wouldn't it? He'd have pinned Simon at age 20 with that little remark. He didn't have a clue what year Gene's world would have made out Simon had been born but he was fairly sure 1977 was far off the mark. Simon looked pretty squarely his age. While Robin looked maybe a little younger than his 32 years Simon was mid-thirties and certainly looked it, especially after the abuse he'd put his body through since his death. It saddened Robin to see how much it had affected him.

His mind drifted to Kim. When he'd first met her he had taken her as being older than Simon by a good couple of years at least. The long, dark hair and the sadness she wore around her like a cloak seemed to age her terribly. As she and Robin had drawn closer and she'd taken back her signature look of old, the short bleached hair and the boyish clothes, it de-aged her. Her soul was happier and free. The years seemed to fall away. Now even though she was a couple of years older than Robin she looked about the same age, neither of them looked as old as they truly were.

He wondered idly how old Jake was. He seemed a little younger than him; maybe late twenties? Twenty eight? Twenty nine? He didn't know very much about him at all. There as a part of him that was afraid to ask. He didn't want to get to know Jake better for fear of liking him too much. He knew that was stupid. But he was in such a strange place emotionally. He didn't want Jake to say something that secured a place in his heart.

"I thought you were bringing your dog."

Jake's words brought Robin from his deep thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You told Gene you were bringing your dog," Jake reminded him, "you threatened that she may wish for a place to relieve herself."

Robin gave a quiet laugh as Jake smiled.

"Gene never has to know," He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, he won't hear a thing from me," Jake laughed gently, "I'm not complaining."

"Good," Robin said quietly, unable to stop himself. He bit his lip and could feel his cheeks burning. _Shit_, great time for his self-consciousness to kick in. He turned to face the windscreen in the hope that Jake wouldn't see and stared ahead. "I had a lot of fun the other night," he said quietly."

"Yeah, me too," Jake nodded, sounding every bit as awkward as Robin. He nodded and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Robin cleared his throat.

"Enough for a-an encore?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and not really managing.

"When did you have in mind?" Jake asked and Robin turned a little his way.

"Maybe at the weekend," he suggested. "Haven't been clubbing for a while."

"None of us have," Jake mused, thinking about Marci and Shaz. It felt strange to think Eddie wouldn't be joining them any longer. He smiled. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"As long as I'm not busy."

"You've got another date?" Robin asked before he could stop himself and a slightly alarmed Jake looked his way.

"Would this be a date?" he asked.

"Wouldn't it?" Robin asked anxiously, then swallowed, "I mean, it _could_ be. If you were OK with that." He bit his lip. "_Are_ you?"

"Am I what?"

"OK with it?"

"Being a date?" he watched Robin nod anxiously. "Well, maybe."

"If… if you're not interested," Robin swallowed, "then I-I understand… I get it… but I'd rather know."

"No, I am," Jake blurted, his face heating up as Robin looked at him almost surprised.

"You are?"

Jake looked increasingly uncomfortable. He tried to loosen his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I-I'm not really good at this." He closed his eyes feeling like a world-class idiot. "Sorry."

"It's OK," Robin said quickly, "believe me, it's not usually my territory either." He paused, watching jakes face continue to redden. "Has it… been a while since you were dating someone?"

Jake visibly paled.

"I held hands for a full minute during sports day with this girl when I was seven," he said sarcastically but that did little to throw Robin off the scent.

"Seriously, Jake," he said quietly, "I feel like I don't know very much about you. We get on great but then any time I ask you anything about yourself… or anytime we…" he swallowed, "that night. Before the bombing. We were… things were intense." He saw Jake look away, "do you not…. I mean, I thought there was something there… but if I'm wrong, tell me now. Please."

Jake barely looked at Robin, hanging his head.

"It's not that, Sir," he said, the word slipping out before he could stop it, "not… _sir_… you know what I mean…" he caught Robin nodding out of the corner of his eye. "I do really like you. I find it hard to talk about myself. When did I last date?" he gave a slightly embittered laugh, "if you mean the paperwork I share my bed with every evening then I'm two-timing it when I go for dinner with you."

"You seem lonely sometimes," Robin said quietly, realising just how sad the thought made him.

"I find it difficult to… _you know,"_ he paused and shrugged, "I guess it was never really in my plan. I always had something else to focus on."

"What wasn't?"

"The dating game. I just wanted to do well at school, then at college, then Uni… then get a good job, then get promoted… I mean, that's all I've ever been about really."

Robin nodded slowly. That reminded him so much of the way that Simon used to be before his accident. That was why, despite their closeness, it had taken a server on the head for Simon to think about his romantic future as well as his career.

"It's never too late, you know," he said quietly and finally Jake caught his eye. For a split second he felt a buzz running through his body. It was something that scared him a little. But before he had time to confront it the sight of a car sweeping past them caught both their attention.

"Wait, is that –" Jake began as Robin watched the number plate and then checked his copy of the plans.

"That's on the list," he said quickly, "one of the West's pool cars." He swallowed as he felt that familiar adrenaline surging through his veins and he grasped the radio. "Guv?"

A fuzzy crackle was followed by the voice of Gene.

"_If yer dog's pissed itself I'm not coming round with the bucket and mop."_

"No," Robin rolled his eyes, "slightly more important than that. Spotted something. First of the west." He paused as he stared at a second vehicle creeping past them, hiding the radio until it was out of sight. "Game on, Guv. Game on."

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sorry, I've split this chapter up again. I just needed to force myself to get something posted. I want to say thanks to everyone who is reading this. At some point lately my hits have been going up, I'm not sure why but I am really grateful to everyone who's reading for your support, especially those of you who have taken the time to leave a review or PM me. I really hope you stick with this story and this series as it continues**_.


	18. Chapter 15: The Turning of the Tide

**Chapter 15**

_Tick, tock, tick, tock…_

The hands kept on moving round the face of the clock, bringing the hour of the raid ever closer and Kim couldn't ignore it, as hard as she tried. Every _tick_ that she heard put her further on edge.

_I've done all that I can. I've done my best._

She'd called upon Gene for help but she knew that he'd already ignored her earlier messages. Well, ignored them or hadn't been able to figure out how to play them. _That_ was entirely possible.

She tried to block out the clock as she stared blankly at the page in front of her. She'd read the same paragraph six times and was still no closer to taking in the information. She felt a churning sensation inside of her as mirages of the plans for the raid swam before her eyes. Her soul was dark, a block put up between her and her true spirit. But there was a tiny spark of something in the back of her mind that kept coming forward.

She could still see the words printed on the document; _Carter's Logistics haulage yard._

The words made her flinch and her stomach turned over. There was something there, something deep inside her head that she couldn't fight… a memory that had buried itself out of reach beyond the darkness but that pricked at her whenever she allowed herself to think of it.

'…_Rob, you have to get to hospital, you're probably concussed, or…'_

_Shit!_ Where did that voice come from? It was there inside her head as clear as anything. She swallowed and shuddered as she knocked it to one side and began reading the paragraph for a seventh time.

'…_I'm fine, I'll be fine. Really…'_

'…_Not taking any chances… come on. Car's over this way…'_

"Stop it!" she said out loud, glaring around as though she could see the voices. Thankfully her head quietened and she reread the paragraph, finally taking in some words on the eighth attempt before another line flew through her head.

'…_I've got to get back to the station and give my statement…'_

'…_You're going to hospital if I have to drag you there…'_

And then; _crash_. A moment of pain radiated from her mind as she felt with complete lucidity the motion of a vehicle slamming into her from one side. It shook her so completely that she bolted out of her seat and stood with a look of shock upon her face, breathing heavily. She blinked hard as though that could chase away the persistent memories. The images of _Carter's Logistics_ stayed in her mind as she breathed words that she barely dared to register.

"_I've been there before."_

~xXx~

"Batman's on the ball, the Cavalry's arrived," Gene mumbled as he spotted another of Fenchurch West's cars crawl towards the feeder road that led to the yard. He grabbed the radio again and barked, "Nicey Spice, don't fall off yer platforms but the enemy are amongst us."

"_Watching now, Guv,"_ Marci's voice returned.

"What now?" Alex asked. She nodded to the paper in Gene's hand. "You're the man with the plans."

"Batman's got a set too," Gene said, rather uncomfortably. For the first time since Election night he'd been making decisions and a difficult operation rested entirely on his shoulders. Suddenly that felt like far too much responsibility.

"Someone has to take the lead," Alex said somewhat pointedly. She feared that he might back down and lose strength when the moment arrived. From the look on his face, she wasn't the only one who held that fear.

~xXx~

"At no point did this ever figure in my life's ambitions, I hope you realise that," Victoria whispered in the darkness as she reached for a hand that she couldn't see.

The drapes in the room blocked out the evening light as they sat and waited, watching through a gap in the dark material for any sign of the perpetrator of the recent attacks.

"I'll take it as a compliment that you're here then," Nailer told her with a smile that was lost to the darkness. He didn't tell her as such but she had never been in his life plans either. _No one_ had. In the early days there were women queuing up at the doors. One or two men as well. There were many many money-moths attracted not to a bright light but to a full and healthy wallet, as well as the dangerous edge that Nailer's lifestyle had to offer. There had been the occasional night with a classy escort, a slightly less occasional night with a cheap prozzie down-town, but within a year or so he'd got that out of his system and concentrated on his business.

Maybe there were one or two superficial relationships. Perhaps an occasional fling. But he'd never had a bond like this before.

"How long do you want to wait?" her voice interrupted his thoughts, "are we here all night?"

"To be safe," he nodded. His other hand clasped around the weapon tucked out of sight. If he was honest he hated the thought of doing this more than he could express. "Vicks?"

"Mmm-hmm?" Victoria's voice was soothing despite her own anxiety.

"I'm not happy about something."

Victoria moved a little closer so he could see her profile.

"Lack of sandwiches?" she asked.

"Worse than that," his fingers lightly tapped on the window, "suddenly it seems busy out there."

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked, peering out of the gap in the drapes. At first she couldn't see much of anything. Then on the second look she spotted them; myriad vehicles in the yard and road, one, two, three… she kept on counting and with each one her anxiety rose. "I thought this was supposed to be a one-person operation," she whispered, imagining them being truly outnumbered but the more she looked the more her fear grew. The sight of one vehicle made her stomach drop unexpectedly. "Oh _no."_

Nailer's spine played host to a barrage of anxious tingles.

"Those were not words I wanted to hear," he said.

"Nick, that car –"

"Which one?"

"The silver one. Look."

Nailer peered out and nodded slowly.

"What about that one in particular?"

"I know it."

"How?"

"Because I've sat inside it many times," she swallowed as they let the blind drop abruptly and turned to each other, almost unable to see them in the darkness, "Nick, that's a pool car. CID used it."

"CID?"

"At Fenchurch West."

Nailer's skin began to crawl and his mouth grew dry. He swallowed and felt his heart speeding up in horror.

"Your best friend Mister Keats –"

"That's not his car."

"But it's part of his fucking cess pool."

Victoria swallowed.

"Nice way to put it," she whispered.

Nailer chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Who else is out there, Vicks?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question but they both knew that if they tried to answer it the reply would be mind-shatteringly horrible.

"I knew something about this stank," Victoria hissed as she leapt up suddenly, knocking the blinds as she moved, "_Shit_, Nick, what kind of fucking elaborate set up _is_ this?"

"One we're not going to fall into," Nailer told her firmly as he got to his feet and grabbed her hand, "Come on."

"Where? We must be surrounded!"

"Yeah, that's why we have contingency plans," Nailer told her as he pulled her from the room.

Victoria didn't know where he was taking her but adrenaline surged through her body. This might not have been the life she expected but she simply had to run with it.

~xXx~

The more Kim tried to push it from her mind the more it came back to haunt her. It didn't even make sense… words, voices, sensations, images – all jumbled up. The could see the trucks bearing the name of _Carter's Logistics_ on the side, she could smell the dust in the driveway as she entered the haulage yard, she could feel the sensation of relief at the sight of someone's safety and feel… feel the most incredible, crushing pain as…

…as a car…

…as it…

…What happened? There was a missing piece or two. The puzzle wasn't slotting together but it was making her stomach twist and flip with anxiety.

"_Robin,"_ she breathed his name without even realising it, images of him coming to mind, walking towards her across the yard; the wave of emotion that had engulfed her, the concern she'd felt for him, the love she had for him, the love that she was still trying to deny way back then –

A love she'd lost the ability to feel. A love she _thought_ she'd lost the ability to feel.

_Fuck_, there was a fight… a battle going on right in the depths of her mind and it was killing her. She clutched her head as the memories tried to bring back what she had felt for him but the darkness and the negativity struck back to keep them out of her mind.

"_Fuck!"_ she cried. The pain in her head was reaching fever pitch. She strode around in circles, just trying to make the voices and the flashes stop and let her be. She came to a halt beside her desk and yanked open the drawer where she found a strip of paracetamol and threw two down her throat without even chasing them up with water. The pain wasn't physical but it was all she could think of doing.

Then, there it was; the vision in her mind, the vehicle ploughing towards her, striking her… the pain, the blackness, the nothingness and the feeling of safety and warmth as Robin stayed by her side.

Robin –

_Robin_

"_Fuck,"_ she screamed as she shut her eyes tightly and leaned, panting, against the desk. Yes, she had been to Carter's Logistics before, And she hadn't been the only one.

"_Shit –"_

The secret panel –

The car –

And now, the set-up.

"_Rob…"_

A pang of fear gripped her inside and she couldn't fight it., All she could do was to run for her car speed to the yard and hope upon hope that all was well. She had a very bad feeling and it wasn't going to fade away for anything.

~xXx~

His vision was beyond perfect, despite the spectacles. Instinct saw what his eyeballs did not. The movement of the drapes set Keats's jaw on edge and he growled with contempt for the woman he knew was hidden away the other side of the window with a runaway drug baron. Slowly he lifted the radio and with extreme satisfaction barked the order.

"_Go_."

~xXx~

"_Fuck,"_ Robin shot up in his seat as he saw a sudden flurry of movement and barked into the radio, "Guv they're off!"

There was a split second's pause, and Robin wondered if Gene was going to deliver the goods. He'd been so indecisive for so long, how was he going to cope in the heat of the operation? But with a sigh of relief he heard that voice, clear and strong as always;

"_Then so are we. Get flying, Batman."_

Robin glanced at Jake, already opening the door of the car.

"You heard him," he mumbled as they both left their vehicle.

All at once officers in and out of uniform began to swarm the scene, some flocking toward the buildings, others running toward Keats's team

"Bolly, Dawson, round the back," Gene barked, thrusting a finger in the direction of a tall wooden gate, "Nicey and Granger, main doors. Batman, truck yard." He set his sights on the back of Keats's head and turned his glare up by several notches, "I'm going after Beelzebub in brogues." He turned to Robin as all 6 began to move, "lend me that dog o'yours."

Robin looked sheepish.

"Uh, she didn't join us in the end," he said awkwardly, "you'll have to bark yourself."

"_Bark_ at him? I wanted her to bite his bloody _arse!"_ Gene cried, his feet pounding on the floor, "I'm not doing that, I'll get rabies!"

"Oh, but you'll wish it on my _dog?"_ cried Robin into the wind.

Jake raced toward the side gate and embarked upon his ascent, climbing up the pile of debris beside it.. Halfway up, he glanced behind him.

"Do you need a hand over?" He asked Alex who shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," she waved him over quickly.

Around the front of the building a confused Dillion made the mistake of trying to look behind him as he ran towards the entrance. Hearing cries of, "_Stop, Fenchurch East!"_ from behind him he glanced around to find himself running straight into a bollard, an encounter from which he only just managed to remain upright, and all to no avail as he found himself tackled and brought down by Shaz while Marci put on a burst of speed and gripped a handful of the back of DC Hanid's jacket.

"_What the_ –" she muttered as she turned her head to see the unfamiliar detective gripping in for all she was worth.

"Fenchurch East!" Marci declared, "this is an illegal operation!"

"I _beg_ your pardon?!" The DC's mouth dropped open, at a complete loss to understand what was going on.

Marci had been wondering how on earth their ramshackle plan was going to stop Fenchurch West from carrying on with their work. Apparently the element of bewilderment clinched it.

"Your operation is over," she said as she flashed her ID, leaving the woman in her grasp to look even more confused.

"_I'm just doing my job!"_ she cried.

"And I'm doing mine," Marci informed her as she managed to cuff the bewildered detective.

"_OI! Spice Prat!"_ Gene panted as he ran, "you're only supposed to stop 'em, not slam 'em in the cells." He focused on Keats as he continued to run, "with one exception."

Watching Jake's form disappear over the wooden gate, Alex began to mount the pile of wood and slate to follow him, wishing that she'd worn more sensible shoes that day.

"I was dressed for a meeting, not for meeting a big pile of planks," she mumbled as she climbed to the top and peered over the gate where a convenient pile of crates would provide her safe descent, but as she shuffled along the top of the gate the wood beneath her felt as though it was bending and giving. She looked down a little anxiously and to her horror one hand moved one way while the other slowly shifted in the other direction as two planks in the gate falling in opposite ways. Her arms were about to do the splits. She made an attempt to scramble onto the crates but as the gate began to break up they tumbled too and before she knew what was happening she had gripped the closest sturdy thing to hand, the one panel of the gate that was bolted to the wall. "_Shit_," she mumbled as her feet scrambled against the bricks but there was no way of getting up and the drop down was steep. She couldn't get back to the debris pile and beneath her was a perilous fall onto broken wood and bits of metal. "Shit!" she closed her eyes and did the only thing she could think of, as much as she hated to do so. _"Help!"_ she screamed. She gave a groan. "I sound like Penelope Pitstop." But as she whined the panel she held began to creak and with horror she realised her situation was becoming more desperate by the second. _"Help!" _she cried with more conviction "Someone help me!"

Gene froze the moment he heard her voice. His head turned from side to side. He was inches away from catching up with Keats and the thought of gripping him by the shoulder as he allowed his other hand to bunch up into a fist had been fuelling his sprint across the yard. But the sight of Alex hanging precariously over a pile of sharp objects that made the spike pits in Sonic the Hedgehog look like a cosy mattress stopped him in his tracks.

In that split second the choice almost took a stranglehold over him; to help Stop Alex from getting hurt, or to hurt the man who'd assaulted her? His head felt like it was about to explode from the pressure as the two choices tugged at him, especially as Keats stopped to turn around amid the insanity and his smug expression met Gene's angry glare, but as he heard Alex scream again there was only one decision to be made.

It was always her. Every single time.

"_Batman!"_ he bellowed at a volume that damn near shook the windows. Robin stopped in his tracks, almost skidding across the path like a cartoon character, "Deal with the devil."

"Wha-_me?"_ Robin felt a terrible wave of fear wash over him from head to toe as his eyes focused on the man who'd beaten him so badly that he still rarely woke without a headache. He swallowed as he tried to work out what was happening, looking from Gene race towards Alex to the defiant look on Keats's face.

Not for one damn second did Keats believe that Robin had it in him to go after him.

He was wrong.

~x~

"_Alex!"_

Alex's feet were still scrambling for the wall or some wood or anything but there was no way up, the only way out of the situation was down and with the creaking of the panel her hands were still clinging to she knew that her decent was going to be fast and painful. The sound of Gene's voice brought relief but she barely dared to look down.

"_Gene!"_ her voice was desperate, "_Help_ me!"

Picking his way through the junk that littered the ground, Gene stood beneath her, stretching for her legs but she was just a little out of reach.

"Let go," he told her.

_"What?!"_ cried Alex, "have you got an urge to book my funeral or something?!"

"Just drop," he told her, arms out, "I won't let yer get hurt."

"It's so far," Alex knew she sounded pathetic but she couldn't help it.

"Let go, Alex, I've got you."

Alex swallowed, the creaking of the wood the worst sound she'd ever herd.

"I'm _scared_, Gene," she breathed.

Gene knew that.

"I'm here, Bolly," he said.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation. Then as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes she put her faith in the man standing beneath her. She loosened her grip and felt a rush of air as she fell into the arms that would always protect her, no matter what.

~xXx~

Nailer's hand closed over Victoria's as he stared upon her terrified face.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Victoria hesitated.

"How safe is this?" she whispered.

Nailer shrugged.

"I'm still in one piece, aren't I?"

Victoria's line of sight shifted to the windscreen and the dead-end ahead, then as she swallowed she turned back to Nailer with a nod. Her trust outweighed her fear.

"Then I'm ready," she said determinedly.

There was a growing smile on Nailer's face.

"Then," he began, "get ready for the ride of your life, Ms Stone."

He faced forward and gripped the wheel.

~xXx~

Kim couldn't even remember the drive to the yard, just the blind panic she felt in her chest the whole way. She parked at a safe distance and her feet took her at speed to the entrance where she stopped running to watch the chaos and commotion in confusion

_I've been here before… been here before… I…_

She swallowed as memories stabbed at her like shards of ice.

_Robin… I was here with Robin… he'd been… we were…_

She froze up as the man in her mind came into focus in the distance, running with speed and fury towards another whose face Kim would only see as a blur of darkness. Her heart almost seized up. Worlds were colliding terribly in every sense and a terrible din of ticking and beeping began to play in her mind, rising in volume and reaching a fever pitch that brought her to her knees, gasping in pain. She clutched her head and closed her eyes, blocking out the world.

Dark clouds were surging through her consciousness and the terrible darkness fought with the love she felt for the man she's felt compelled to run to. But as she felt her body crash to the floor she knew that this was one battle the light could not win.

~xXx~

The smug look on Keats's face did not budge an inch.

"You never would, Robin," he murmured under his breath, even as Robin gripped his arms fiercely and pulled them behind his back.

"Wouldn't what?" he hissed breathlessly, more exhausted from his anger than the actions he'd undertaken.

Keats merely stared over his shoulder as Robin pushed him against the side of a truck.

"Wouldn't dare take the poxy _revenge_ you're thinking about," he sneered, "no way is your fist going to meet my face."

"No, you're right there," Robin hissed as he twisted his arm a little too far for good measure, "because I'm not doing a thing to jeopardise the chances of you standing up in court."

Keats let out a pained yelp from the twisting of his arm, then set his face straight again.

"Oh yeah?" he sniffed, "what are you arresting me for? _You are hereby charged with tracking down a wanted criminal?"_

"Election night. Ring any bells?"

"You're actually going to arrest me for that?" Keats tried to laugh, "it'll be laughed out of court. It'll look like a petty grudge. Poor me, being victimised by my little brother."

"Do you want to say that a little louder?" Robin's anger rose as he gave Keats's arm another twist.

"If you keep doing that I'll have no choice! _Argh!"_ Keats screamed.

~X~

Gene stared at Alex in utter amazement.

"You seemed to be in serious danger of trusting me with yer life there, Bols," he said.

"_You_ seemed to be in serious danger of _saving_ it," Alex said a little breathlessly as she looked at the mess of rubbish on the ground. Despite staggering somewhat Gene had caught her and stayed more or less upright himself before setting her safely down.

"Saved yer _arse_ more like," Gene commented, "could have been picking lumps of metal out yer backside for weeks." His eyes focused on Keats who seemed to be in a considerable amount of pain. "Speaking of arses," he hated to abandon Alex where she was but he had another job to do.

The last thing Keats needed as his arm twisted to an angle it had never seen before were Gene's dulcet tones over his shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Jimbo."

Keats felt his body deflating.

"Oh Christ," he groaned.

Gene turned to Robin.

"This looks interesting," he said, "mind if I try?"

"Be my guest," Robin told him, giving Keats's arm one more tug for good measure before pushing him and walking away as Gene took over. One hefty pull and Keats's scream went up a notch.

"_Argh!"_

Gene gave a sigh, knowing that the arm wasn't going to go much further.

"You know this isn't as much fun as I thought it would be," he said, "I'd better find another way to amuse meself." Keats knew what was coming as cold metal joined his wrists together behind his back.

"You never learn, Hunt," he spat, "this isn't going to hold me."

"DCI James _Arsehole_ Keats I am arresting you for the rape and abduction of DCI Alex Drake and the abduction and assault of Police Chief Robin _Batman_ Thomas."

"And you know charges won't stick."

"Interesting to hear you say that, considering I'm the one standing up in court and relaying the little story of how your fists attempted to become intimately acquainted with yer old DI," Gene hissed.

Keats looked at him angrily.

"That's _you," _he spat, "_they'll_ never have the guts to stand up. You expect your piece of skirt to go through it in front of a judge? A scene by scene playback of every second?" the moment of ecstasy on Keats's face as he recalled the night sparked Gene's anger further.

"She'll cope," he hissed, "because she's got a backbone. Which is more than I can say for you. That's how you always slip out of these things, isn't it?" he pulled on the cuffs, "no bones in yer body. Just slime." He glanced across at Alex who was staring on, her expression dark but focused. He knew that he still had to talk to her about formally charging Keats and it was going to be the hardest conversation of their life but he also knew that she was strong enough to see him get the punishment that he deserved. He had faith in her. "Let's find you a nice cosy cell, Mister Keats," he concluded as he pulled him roughly, but just then a loud crash shattered both the silence and a wall as a blur of metal flashed past them and splinters of wood flew in all directions. It took a few seconds for anyone to realise what was happening and it took a moment for the dust to settle before they could even _see_ but they were brought sharply back to reality the moment they heard a distressed Shaz crying Marci's name over and over again.

"_Well what in the name of fuck -?"_ Robin began before a terrible darkness struck him inside. Throughout the operation he'd managed to block out the memories of being there before. It wasn't even a conscious thing, his mind hadn't let him remember because it knew he couldn't take it. But now there was no forgetting.

The scene was a confusing one of devastation. In one wall of the building was a vast, gaping hole where the fake wooden panel disguised by paint as bricks had been blown apart by the impact of the car as Nailer and Victoria made a daring escape. Amongst the debris littering the ground was a crumpled heap of clothes and flesh; Marci sprawled across the tarmac with her eyes closed and blood trickling from a gash across the back of her head.

Shaz dropped down beside her, held her hand and called her name again and again as the others began to flock around in shock.

"_Call an ambulance_!" she cried desperately as Robin's hands covered his mouth in horror. The parallels his brain drew were haunting him but so was the sight of a friend in a bad way. He started to look around.

"_Where's Jake?"_ he cried.

"Round the back," Alex said quietly as she encroached upon Marci.

Robin swallowed as he realised he had the job of telling Jake that his best friend in all of the world had been badly hurt. He knew he had no choice. He sprinted toward the side of the building while Alex doubled back on herself to radio from the car but with a wave of relief there was a gasp, a splutter and a groan from the ground as a pained but very much alive Marci clutched her ribs and rolled slightly to one side.

"_Marci!"_ Shaz shrieked, almost afraid to believe she was alright.

"_Fuck!"_ Marci's voice was pained as she tried and failed to sit up, "Shit, what happened?"

Shaz could hardly speak.

"It was a car," she managed to breath.

Marci took in a sharp breath as the pain seared through her body.

"'it's alright," she mumbled, "I didn't need all those ribs anyway."

"Wel-well, we'll have to start calling you Invinci-Spice," Gene marvelled, "what happened, yer platforms absorb the shock of the impact?"

Marci didn't know what had happened, only that she'd been close to suffering far worse and survived. _Again_. Perhaps, she thought, that was a reminder to start living her life again – while she still had one.

As an anxious Jake rushed around to find his dear friend awake and alive, Marci found herself loved and cared for by her friends while Alex assured them an ambulance was on its way. Whilst Gene made sure Keats was squarely secured away in a car and prepared for a little visit to the cells at Fenchurch East he looked over his team and felt pride swelling in his chest.

They were back.

~xXx~

Kim's eyes flickered open as the sound of the siren awoke her. She wasn't sure where she was or what she was doing there. In fact, she remembered very little.

Her mind was a blank canvas.

Thoughts of Robin had been swept aside. Memories of cars and accidents gone from her head. She had no interest in the sound of the commotion behind her.

Slowly, shakily, she got to her feet and walked to her car, her expression flat. Her emotions had left her as the battle for control reached its peak and all that was left now was the husk of Kim.

Bad energy painted over her bank canvas in shades of black and grey.

As strong as she was, the battle had been won by the wrong side.

Her mind forever dark, her soul forever night.


	19. Intermission 3

**Intermission 3**

"So, Gene, I wasn't expecting you to be the first one through my door."

"Yeah, well. I decided you needed to see someone with _real_ problems first instead of that bunch of lardy puddings."

"So you're making your own decisions again."

"Is there a point to this patronisation or are you looking for a filing cabinet in the back?"

"Don't get me wrong, Gene, I am happy that you are starting to make choices again. It's just that…. _my schedule_… really isn't one that you should be allowed to make."

"Bollocks, you don't care who comes through this door as long as they've got a scrambled brain in their scull and a few notes in their pocket."

The psychologist frowned.

"I think you may be stepping over a line here," she said.

"If I am then that's my decision."

"Yes, yes, I get the point. Perhaps it's just as well you came in first. I get the feeling this is going to be a very short session."

Gene sighed.

"Calm yerself, contrary to popular belief I'm not here with the sole purpose of winding you up."

The psychologist wasn't so sure.

"No?" she raised an eyebrow, "then what _are_ you doing?"

Gene swallowed. He closed his eyes momentarily and drew in breath.

"I think," he began stiffly, "today I would like to talk about," he paused. These were not easy words to say. He breathed in deeply and finally whispered; "_my son."_

~xXx~

"Better," Alex smiled downwards as she thought back to the developments over the last few weeks, "things are definitely getting better."

The psychologist nodded.

"That's a very positive thing to hear," she said, "in what way have things improved?"

"_I've_ improved," Alex began, "for a start. I'm… _talking_," she nodded determinedly, "to people. To everyone." She paused. "To _Gene_." She expected the woman to leap in with a comment but Alex was grateful for her silence. It allowed her to go on at her own pace. "We're talking, we're… we're doing _more_ than talking," she was smiling but trying to hide it. It seemed inappropriate. "We're just taking it slowly. But we're getting there and we're moving on." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "It's not like it's… ever going to go away. It's not as though I won't always…." She cut herself off to begin talking more forcefully, "it's changed me and I can't ever go back to exactly who I used to be. But it's not going to destroy me. It's _not_ going to destroy me or the things and people that I love. I won't let it. I won't let _him_." She looked fiercely at the woman, "I feel stronger. And somehow… somehow that's made _Gene_ feel stronger too. And the cycle…. _continues_. The more strength we gain, the more the other feels." Her face was set and determined, "He's not going to win. He's done too much damage and he's not going to get away with it this time. I won't let him." She paused. "_We_ won't let him." She looked down as she remembered the aftermath of the operation; Keats in the cells, the interviews, the inevitable vanishing from the cells and the charges that, _this_ time, would not be dropped. She knew the implications for herself and Robin. But the implications for Keats were greater. She had to be strong.

"You've made some big steps in the past few weeks," the psychologist told her.

Alex nodded.

"I'm not stupid, I know that I have a long way to go, but I am getting there. I'm getting little more of myself back every day." She paused and bit her lip. "There's just… _one_ thing… that scares me now."

The woman looked a little concerned.

"What?"

Alex looked at her with terrified eyes.

"What's Gene going to do when he discovers that they've painted his office pink?"

~xXx~

"You look like you have a whole new lease of life."

Jake barely listened to the woman.

"I thought I'd lost her. My best _friend!"_ He cried, "when Robin came and told me… his face… his expression…" he shook his head, "she's been my best friend for so long I can't remember a time I didn't know her. We've spent more time together than apart in the last decade. We work together, we go clubbing together, the only thing we don't do is share a flat and that's only because she snores." He smiled as he looked down. "_Fuck_. I thought I'd lost my best friend."

"You seem fairly buoyed now?" The woman tried to work out what was going on.

"Because I _didn't_ lose her," Jake said firmly, "she survived. _Thriving_, Few cracked ribs but she's getting better. She's Marci. She's amazing. _Nothing_ keeps her down."

"The last time we spoke you were having trouble relating to her. After the death of Eddie."

Jake looked down, feeling a little ashamed.

"That kind of went by the by when I thought she was dead too," he said quietly. He swallowed as the memory of that day returned to him. "Eddie dying… that was bad enough and I didn't even know him that well. The thought of losing _her_…"

The psychologist bit down on the end of her pen.

"Eddie's death," she began, "it made you acutely aware of losing those you valued."

"Well of _course_ it did," Jake wasn't sure what point she was making.

"You found it hard to talk to Marci because of her grief," the woman continued, "but perhaps your _own_ grief was driving a wedge between you."

"I didn't really know Eddie that well."

"But it was making you think about losing people you knew," she looked at him seriously. "Do you feel that you were trying to put a distance between yourself and others to avoid becoming close to them? In case you had to go through what Marci was going through?"

Jake opened his mouth to deny the suggestion but he couldn't. There was some truth in what she'd said. He thought about Marci on the night Eddie died. They'd only just started to become close and then he'd been taken away from her in a flash. The more he thought about it the more things made sense. That same night, he and Robin had been about to become physically acquainted with one another, and then just a short time later Robin had been abducted and battered by Keats. What if _Robin_ had died? What if by getting close to him, or to anyone, he was just letting himself in for tragedy?

It made sense.

"Maybe life is too short to worry so much," he whispered.

~xXx~

"Talk about _life's too short_," Marci shook her head as she sat awkwardly in the chair, still battered and bruised. Aside from the cracked ribs she had stitches in the back of her head, a fracture in her foot and a bruise on her backside the size of Jupiter's great red spot. But she had never felt so alive.

"You were very lucky to escape with so few injuries," the psychologist commented, "it sounds like the impact of the car could have caused far worse."

"Too true," Marci nodded. She sighed. "I feel like I've had my life given back to me. Literally. You know what? When Eddie died he died saving my life, and what did I do? I started wasting it. I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do so I just did nothing. I shut myself away, I didn't know how to deal with the grief. I wasted the life he handed back to me." She looked the psychologist square in the eye. "I'm always going to miss Eddie. I'm going to wonder every day what might have been. But I have to start living again because otherwise…" she closed her eyes. "I don't think Eddie would approve of me sitting around on my backside," she flinched and adjusted her position, "when I can…. And moping. He lived his life. Loved it. He'd want me to love mine." She nodded determinedly. "That's what I'm going to do."

~xXx~

"It's all different," the psychologist wasn't expecting to see smiles. Especially not one the size of Shaz's. "Things are getting better. People are talking and laughing. We're being sociable again. We're starting to get back to normal. _Better_ than that, it's like we're more grateful for what we have now." She bit her lip shyly. "Like Marci. She's been amazing. She gets run over and just fights right back."

The psychologist looked at her curiously.

"Would you like me to open a window?" she asked.

Shaz frowned.

"No, Miss. Why?"

"You seem a little flushed, that's all. I wondered if it was too hot in here."

Shaz looked down and tried to hide her smile.

"No, thank you, I'm fine." She paused, deep in thought before she eventually asked, "Miss… how soon… is _too_ soon?"

"Too soon for what?"

"To move on. After a death."

The psychologist hesitated.

"Whose death are we talking about now?" she asked, "is this Eddie, or…" she glanced at the papers before her, "if you're talking about Kim…"

Shaz nodded anxiously.

"I am," she said quietly.

"Sharon, grief takes as long as it takes," she said gently, "you can't hurry it. You will know when the time is right." She watched Shaz nodding slowly, a smile spreading across her face. "Are you starting to feel yourself moving on?"

Shaz closed her eyes and nodded. There was an excited energy running through her veins that she hadn't felt in more than a year.

"Very much so, Miss," she whispered.

~xXx~

"I thought I was moving on," Robin wouldn't even look at the woman, "I really did. Started to get closer to… _someone_… started to think about other things and other people. And then, _wallop_ – right in the middle of a place where…" he flinched as he recalled that fateful day near the start of his relationship with Kim, watching the vehicle fly out through the panel and strike her. It made him feel like heaving right there and then, "…now I can't stop thinking about her."

The psychologist felt sorry for Robin. She knew pity was not a good thing to be feeling in her job but she couldn't help it. Everyone else seemed to be making progress whilst the same operation that helped them to find strength had knocked Robin back a mile.

"When was the last time you saw or spoke to her?" she asked.

"It was weeks ago," Robin whispered, "but then I heard her voice… answerphone message…" he stared at the floor. "It wasn't even a message for me."

"Are you afraid to let her go?"

"What sort of a question is that?" He didn't want to talk about that.

"Robin, you said yourself that you were moving on. "

"I was." He bit his lip. "But now…"

"What are you afraid of?"

"I never said I was afraid!"

"But you didn't deny it." She stared at him as he seemed to fold before her eyes. "What are you afraid of, Robin"?

He stared at his hands as he tried to disconnect himself from his answer.

"I'm afraid," he whispered, "for _her_."

He couldn't tell the woman what he knew deep down. He knew he'd lost her for good because – to all intents and purposes - the Kim he knew no longer existed. Whoever she was now it wasn't Kim. She was Keats with breasts and boots. And that caused Robin more pain deep down than he'd ever felt in his life.

~xXx~

"Pain in the arse, always has been," Gene mumbled as he tried not to look the woman in the eye, "from the minute he first turned up on me station and broke three of his toes. Have you any idea how much bloody paperwork that brought on?" He vaguely glanced at her. She was staring back in silence, her expression fairly neutral. "Not exactly a chip off the block. A chip off the spaceship maybe. Biggest geek this side of the next Red Dwarf convention." He looked down, his heart heavy. "Didn't exactly see eye to eye. I wondered what I'd done to deserved such a jumbo-sized prat in me station. Won't pretend he thought any more fondly of me."

He stopped talking as his mind went back to Simon arriving in his world the first time around, and his shock at the sight of his reappearance ten years later. If there had been one person Gene never wanted to see back again, it was Simon. He thought he'd been through it all with Sam and then with Alex but the guy who arrived in desperate search of his iPhone was like a crossbreed of them both. On steroids. Magnified times a hundred.

"Go on, Gene."

Gene glanced up and noticed that the hands of the clock seemed to have shifted around a fair way. How long had he been lost in his thoughts? He sighed deeply.

"I suppose we found some common ground. Managed to get along. It's not really my thing…. Friendship," he said the word as though it was foreign to him, "nice to have someone on me side for once." He rubbed his temples as the memory of one fateful night in Manchester returned to him. "Turned out me and him had a bit more in common than we thought."

"When did you discover he was your son?"

Gene groaned.

"Don't need to give you the late night version, do I headcase?" he asked. He leaned back. "_One_ time I was unfaithful. One mistake. Didn't even think about dressing up me upstanding officer. Years passed and I had no idea. Then our dear _pal_," he spat the word, "_Jimbo_ decides to do some digging. Nice title paper trail he set up. And bingo. I had a son and heir." He pulled a face. "My DNA spawned a nerd who puts his bumhole to alternative use. He's not exactly me pride and joy!" his expression fell as he stared at the floor. "But," he conceded, "I can imagine he'd probably say the same of me."

He knew that in many ways he and Simon were like chalk and cheese but in other ways they were two of a kind. The resemblance went beyond the physical. So Simon might have had more of an appreciation for science fiction and less of an appreciation for a quality set of boobs than Gene but they clashed so often because they were so similar. It also gave them a good basis for their friendship.

"Not like I want to be his father figure. But he's the best friend I've had in decades. And he's lying in a hospital bed without a thought in his head." He looked at the woman. "Hospital gave me a choice. Operate or flip the switch. They said there wasn't much point in option one. Best not put him through it. Option one would almost certainly lead to the second as it was. "He shook his head. "Maybe me indecision was good for something. Stalled long enough that someone talked me round." He swallowed determinedly. "I've told them to cut that head open and see what they find. Maybe even evidence of a brain, you never know." He paled visibly as he continued. "They say he's finally strong enough to go through the surgery., No way of knowing how bad the damage is, even if he makes it through. Two days' time." He pulled is jaw straight. "This'll really sort out how many of me genes he's inherited. If he's any part of me, he'll pull through." He got to his feet. "Otherwise I'm going to kick is half-dead backside halfway round the capital."

Gene had spoken.

Simon didn't have any choice.


	20. Chapter 16: The Opening of the Office

**Chapter 16**

"_PINK?!"!_

Marci anxiously raised her hand.

"It's… _puce_… actually," she began but Gene spun around and fixed her with the angriest glare she had ever seen in her life. She gulped. Great first day back at work. _"Welcome back, Marci,"_ she mumbled under her breath.

"At least we talked them out of pastel pink," Robin piped up but Gene turned his glare in his direction.

"Well thank you for that, Batman!" he cried, "thanks for talking them out of the same colour, six shades paler! Remind me to recommend you for the queen's new years' honours list!"

August had arrived and the station was beginning to get back to its former glory. Walls had been rebuilt, rooms repainted and offices reopened. The great unveiling of Gene's refurbished office hadn't been the auspicious event that he'd hoped it would be.

"There is a doily on me desk," he growled in a strangled, distressed tone.

"That's for you to put your lunch on, Guv," Jake volunteered, "to stop you leaving crumbs and grease stains all over your new desk."

"I'll tell you where I _am_ going to be leaving some stains," Gene began angrily, eying up the brand new, undented filing cabinet in the corner of his office, "anyone volunteering?"

"_No, Guv."_

"_No thank you."_

"_Sorry Guv."_

A rather scared gathering receded toward the door but Gene called them back.

_"Oi!_ Cheerful spectators. I want you all back here in half an hour. Brushes. Rollers."

"Hairdressing?" Frowned Robin which earned him a brief excursion to the filing cabinet.

"_Painting._ These walls are going from _girly goo_ to _manly blue."_

Jake shuddered. He wasn't very good at decorating. The last time he'd painted a wall he'd managed to get so much green emulsion in his hair that everyone thought he'd dyed it for Children in Need.

"Sorry, Guv, there's paperwork…" he began, backing away out of the door.

"And my ribs…" Marci made a fake face of apology, "You know how it is, Guv. Doctor's orders…" she edged out after him and Shaz made to follow her.

"Someone needs to look after her on her first day back," she said with a nervous smile, backing out the door and then running as soon as she'd escaped the room.

Gene fixed his glare at Robin.

"_Batman!"_ he declared, "I'll expect to see you down at B and Q pronto tonto!"

"And I _would_ do that," Robin began nervously, skimming around the edge of the room, "_Really_ I would. Except I… need the toilet. And to get breakfast. And to train up a few dogs." He reached the door, "_and to hide,"_ he concluded before dashing away at speed after the others, leaving only an amused Alex; arms folded, leaning against the bright pink walls, lips pursed and eyes on Gene.

"Well, you handled that with subtlety and gentle persuasion," she told him.

"Bollocks to them, if they want to miss out on a free drink." He scooped down and lifted a brand new bottle of scotch from the box of belongings he'd transferred up from his makeshift desk. "Can I interest you in a glass to wet the baby's head?"

"The four-walled puce baby you're about to slather with three layers of paint?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Three layers? Who do you think I am, Carol flipping Smilie?" Gene plonked the bottle on the table, "One coat. I'm buying the good stuff. Fletcher can swallow the bill for letting them paint me office pink." He grabbed his jacket and began to pull it on.

"Uh… what happened to the drink?" Alex asked indignantly, staring at the bottle, "giving with one hand and taking with the other?!"

"Get some rags on and meet me back here in half an hour," he told her, "The Manc Lion cannot rule a pink jungle."

~xXx~

"I'm not sure how to take that, Bols," Gene said as he watched her ascending the ladder in an oversized shirt, "I tell you to throw some rags on and see me own wardrobe staring me in the face!"

"Oh _quiet_ you," Alex said as she carefully painted over another patch of pink, "Kim wears Robin's shirts all the time. _He_ thinks they _suit_ her."

"To be fair Bolly he raids her flipping make-up bag in return and that's not a deal I'm willing to strike."

"Oh, I don't know," Alex smirked, "you wore it well last time..."

"You'll be wearing the rest of that pot of paint over yer head in a minute," Gene threatened garnering a laugh from Alex who returned to the wall. With the radio playing in the background and the sound of Gina G filling the air she managed to get quite a rhythm going in her painting. He was quite caught up in it when she heard Gene mumble something.

"Pardon?" she glanced behind her.

"It does, you know," Gene said a little louder.

"What does what?" frowned Alex.

"That shirt. Suits you."

Alex gave a slightly coy smile, feeling surprisingly bashful. She turned around and carried on painting for a moment.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully, "I don't think I can pull it off the same way Kim can."

"I think you're giving her a good run for her money," Gene commented as he watched the shape of Alex's backside sway in time to the music from beneath the shirt. He eventually turned back to his own stretch of wall, slopping the paint on in a haphazard fashion. He painted in silence for a while before he said, "I wondered where that was."

"Sorry?"

"The shirt," he continued to paint the wall in broad strokes in various directions, "was looking for it. Thought I had it with me. I suppose that's what comes of living out of suitcases, never really know what you've got." He noticed Alex looking somewhat sad and guilty. That hadn't been the intention and he tried to gloss over his comment. "Not like Batman's going to give me any of his bloody wardrobe space. Besides, _I'm_ the one who does the closet jokes."

Alex climbed down from the ladder and gave him a dry smile. She wiped her brush on a rag and swirled it in a tin of white spirit.

"You missed a bit," she told him.

"Bloody didn't," Gene scowled, stepping back and admiring the wall.

Alex's smile grew a little.

"Bloody did," she challenged.

"_Where?"_ Gene demanded as Alex took a step towards him, looking slightly nervous.

"Behind the door in the bedroom at home," she began, trying not to react to the confused look on his face as he turned to her. He swallowed and continued. "And the rest of that wall. The three others as well, actually." She walked slowly towards him, her heart going faster than usual and her hands starting to shake just a little. "You see, that colour, the dusky apricot or whatever it was…. It's always seemed a little… _too_ dusky. A bit dark. Not very inviting. Not very us."

Gene hesitated.

"Would that mean there _is_ an us?" He asked.

Alex pursed her lips and nodded extremely slowly.

"Depending on how well you paint the walls this time," she said, "try to keep the brush strokes in the same direction. It's not a game of noughts and crosses." Her smile faded as a look of anticipation replaced it and she looked at him seriously. "Come home, Gene," she whispered, "please."

Gene stared back, doubting his ears. He scratched in one with his little finger nail to make sure he didn't have a lump of wax obscuring her words.

"Not sure if I heard that right, Alex," he said, his voice surprisingly quiet.

She swallowed hard as she fought to overcome her nerves and the memories that wouldn't quite leave her alone. They had no part of their moment.

"You can call me what you want, Gene," she said quietly, "it's OK."

"You want me to call you an arsehole or something do you?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Alex tried to sound cross but her nerves softened her words. She swallowed again and looked him in the eye. "Gene," she whispered, "I'm getting there. One step at a time, but I'm getting there." She felt a hand taking hers and looked down. The sight of her delicate fingers swamped by Gene's rough and weathered hand made her feel safer than she had in months. She gently rubbed her thumb against his knuckles as she said quietly, "I got a letter today. Keats. The court case." She looked up and caught Gene's eye. "They're putting together the charges with his existing case." She paused. "Does that seem strange to you?"

Gene nodded slowly.

"But then again so does Jimbo," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Bolly, listen. I think… this is _it._ We've got one chance. One chance to take him out. They're throwing everything at him in one go. Think that's in our favour."

Alex nodded slowly.

"It's not long until court," she whispered.

Gene looked at her seriously.

"You'll be fine," he told her.

Alex felt sick as she thought about it.

"Will I?"

Gene nodded seriously.

"Because I'm going to be right beside you and together we're going to take a knife to his shrunken bollocks." He cleared his throat. "Metaphorically speaking."

"That's a long word for you," Alex told him.

"Got to up my game if we're back on," Gene told her. He hesitated, "are we?"

Alex nodded. Her expression softened as she spoke.

"We are," she whispered.

"About bloody time," Gene said quietly. He looked into the eyes he'd gazed into so many times, over so many years, and felt his stomach fill with butterflies in a way it hadn't for a very long time. He let his guard drop, just for a moment as he whispered, "Bolly, I missed you."

Those words sparked off a reaction in Alex. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, cupping his face in her palms and drawing him closer. She pressed her lips against his and let out her breath in a sigh as she let her kiss show him that she felt exactly the same. She hadn't even realised how much she'd missed him until that moment. The familiar warmth, the spark, the feelings that returned to her after months in the wilderness. The trust, the love, the passion. It wouldn't happen overnight but soon they would find themselves back on an even keel and enjoying the closeness they'd shared once again.

The kiss gently ended and he held her head to his shoulder. The closeness between them couldn't have felt any stronger than it did in that moment. With her eyes closed and her lips smiling, Alex wished the moment could last forever.

"_I'm so sorry_," she whispered.

She heard Gene sigh.

"Me an' all," he said gruffly.

Neither had been their normal self. Not since that fateful night. But Bolly and the Guv were on their way back. Eventually their embrace ended and Alex took a step backward, her eyes glistening slightly.

"Hope those aren't flipping tears, Bols," he said scornfully.

"No, Guv," she said with a slight smile, "must have paint fumes in my eye." She glanced around and sniffed, trying to ignore the water droplet trickling down her cheek. "Where's that scotch?"

"Been back together three minutes and I've turned you to booze?"

"I think it's time to celebrate," Alex said as Gene fetched the bottle and a couple of small glasses from his box. He poured them each a measure and then handed one to Alex.

"What are we drinking to?" he asked, "not me excellent painting and decorating prowess?"

"No, _obviously_ not," said Alex, amused by the little scowl he gave. Her smile broadened as she held her glass aloft. "To a new era," she said determinedly, "and brighter walls."

Gene nodded as they clinked glasses together.

"I'll drink to both of those things," he said, "depending on what colour you fancy for the bedroom." He looked slightly pained. "Promise me one thing, Bolly."

"What?"

He gagged.

"Anything but puce."


	21. Chapter 17: The Hand in the Hospital

**Chapter 17**

For Robin, the parallels were eerie. It felt like just yesterday that he and Kim had been sitting by Alex's bedside in 2011, saying their goodbyes before a surgery they felt sure she wasn't going to survive. Now here he was staring at Simon's motionless body as the machines did all the work for him to keep him alive.

"You can have five minutes," the nearby doctor told him, "then we need to take him to prep him for surgery."

Robin gave the doctor a crooked smile and turned to Simon. He swallowed so hard that he sounded like a comedy gulping sound effect. He had been dreading this moment. Ever since Gene had made the decision to put Simon through surgery he'd known this was coming, but now that the day had arrived his mind had gone completely blank. He slowly walked to the chair beside the bed as the doctor existed and left him alone. Sinking into the seat, he took Simon's hand and rubbed it gently.

"Shit, you feel cold, Simon," he said quietly. As he tried to warm up Simon's fingers he stared at his face. His eyes were taped shut and there were wires all over the place. Part of his head had been shaven in preparation for the surgery and it made Robin shudder to see him in such a similar state to the one he'd been in after his server accident. A shudder travelled down his spine. He felt shaken by the parallel.

"This isn't how it's going to end, is it?" he asked quietly, "I mean, _no_, this _isn't_ how it's going to end. It _can't_ be. I'm sorry Simon, but this can't be it. Because there's no way you'd just give up on life. Not now. It doesn't make sense. Why _would_ you? You _just_ came back from the edge, Si. _Literally_. You were up there on the hospital roof just a few months ago and look how far you've come since then." he closed his eyes and pulled Simon's hand a little closer to face so he could rest his chin upon Simon's fingers. "Look at you. You fought back. You got strong again. So you're _not_ going to let go now. And there's no way that this world is going to take you away right now. It's not your time. It wouldn't make sense."

He fell silent and listened to the steady beeping of machines and the whirring of the systems keeping Simon alive. He remembered sitting by Simon's hospital bed that fateful May day in 2010; his head crushed by a box of electronics. He thought he'd lost Simon back then. Now he was going through the same thing again.

"Things might be different between us now… we might not be together," he still felt a pang of guilt as he spoke, "but, Si, that doesn't mean I don't care. I might not be _in_ love with you but I still _love_ you. You still mean more to me than almost anyone. I can't bear the thought of losing you again, Simon. Shit, we're only just learning to be friends right now. And I know that the night you…" he swallowed, "the night of the bombs…" he squeezed Simon's hand a little harder, "we weren't exactly getting on. I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry, Simon. I regret that so much, I regret that more than anything." He opened his eyes and stared at Simon's expressionless face. It seemed so eerie to talk to him, not knowing whether or not he could hear.

"Where are you, Simon?" he asked gently, "Hmm? Are you in some other place? Like Gene was? Like Kim, and Alex? Or is it…. _dark_? Is there nothing there?" he wished that he knew. What if Simon was in a _happy_ place? What if he'd found himself in another world where his life was better? He'd never been happy in Gene's world. "See that's the thing, Simon. It can't be your time to go because you've not even found your place here yet. You've never settled in, even _I_ can see that. You didn't like your job, you're not that happy with your flat, you don't seem to have many friends. There has to be a reason why you're here. This world wanted you, it took you from your life so it _must_ have a purpose here for you, you just need to work out what it is."

He wished that Simon's eyes were open so he could look into them and see a spark of recognition. It had been so long since he'd seen them open that he'd forgotten the shade of blue they were.

"it's not like you're here to step into Gene's shoes. That's clear as anything. I know how much you hate covering for him when you have to. You don't want that post, and I don't blame you." He exhaled and let his forehead flop against Simon's hand. "So what is it, Si? Hmm? Why are you here? You can't leave before you've found your purpose. You're the link between worlds, that's what Sam told you, wasn't it? That's got to be important. And _you're_ important." He looked up at Simon again. "And you're important to _me_." He stared at him for the longest time in silence, just taking in the features of the face he knew so well in case it was the very last time that he would see them. When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor he gave Simon's hand one final squeeze and kissed it softly, then he laid it carefully by Simon's side. A figure loomed in the doorway and Robin got to his feet. "It's OK, I'm going –" he began before he realised it wasn't a doctor.

"Don't run off on my account, Batman." Gene's face looked grim and stony pale.

"I-I have to go anyway," Robin said, emotions almost strangling his words, "the doctor said I could only have five minutes."

"Yeah, he said the same thing to me as well," Gene began, "but then I introduced him to the delights of the filing cabinet in the surgeon's office and now he says I've got ten."

"That's… fair enough," Robin could only imagine the fear Gene had instilled in the doctor. The poor sod was probably raiding the drugs trolley right then for something to blackout the memory. "Still, I should go," he said quietly. He walked to the door and glanced back sadly over his shoulder. "Bye, Simon," he whispered and left Gene to have some time alone with his unlikely son.

As Gene crashed his backside into the hard plastic chair he started to feel so much regret for the way he'd behaved. He'd barely been to see Simon at all.

"Christ, look at the state of you," He mumbled, staring at the tape covering Simon's eyes, "they've turned you into a flipping sellotape dispenser." He swallowed hard. It felt like just a few days ago that he'd sat beside Simon as he was airlifted to safety. "Look, Simon, I'm good at this _one-to-one_ crap," he cleared his throat, "but this might be the last chance I'm gonna get so I might as well lay it in the line." He looked down at Simon's hand lying on the bed. "Has Batman been blubbing all over yer fingers?" he asked with some disapproval. "Wet soppy git."

He leaned back and gave a deep, heavy sigh.

"I don' think me world's finished with you yet, Shoebury," he said firmly, "so this isn't it. No one leaves without my say so, whether they're looking for a transfer to another station or to a box six feet under. And guess what, smeg-for-brains? You haven't got permission." He cursed himself for using the _S_ word. "Your geek cooties _have_ rubbed off on me!" he said in genuine disgust, wiping his hands on his trousers as though to rid himself of them. "Listen. I don't know where you are now. I had a ruddy time of it when I was in your place." He couldn't help thinking about his own coma, the lessons he'd learnt, seeing the people he knew so well in their lives before his world had taken them and finding out who Alex used to be. "I just hope it's not a picture paradise. Because I don't want you deciding to stay there, alright? Don't say we wasted our time and cash repainting yer bloody office! Even stuck a new desk in there for you. And yer own filing cabinet. Need to teach you me proper technique. Time you learned the Gene Genie way."

The beeping of the machines seemed to get louder as Gene ran out of words and fell silent. The clean and clinical smell seemed to grow stronger too. The stark white light above them felt overpowering and blinding. Gene didn't like hospitals, not in the slightest. It was no wonder he'd avoided it for so long.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He stared at Simon's unresponsive face and just hoped that he understood what for. He was sorry for everything. He had a lot of regrets He regretted the way he'd treated Simon before he got to know him, he regretted leaving him to adjust to the world without realising how hard he was finding it, he regretted abandoning him in the hospital and refusing to see him for so many weeks. Most of all he regretted the way that the truth about their genetic connection had been revealed. If he'd known for a moment that Simon had been any part of his DNA then he would have handled things very differently but he'd never had a chance.

He didn't want to be a father to Simon and he didn't want to look at him and see a son. But over time an instinct started to kick in that Gene didn't even know he had, and suddenly he found he had no choice.

"They're going to take you away and chop off a bit of that bonce any minute now," he told Simon tactfully, "they don't give you much of a chance of making it through the op. But I'm not giving you any choice. Not leaving bloody Dawson with the latte run, he won't give me more than three sugars and never gets 'em back fast enough. I've had enough cold lattes to last me three bloody lifetimes since you've been lying on yer backside, Shoebury." He blinked and tried to keep his voice steady and calm as he said, "but… just in case," he swallowed, "I'm going to be waiting around in the corridor." He closed his eyes and ignored the wobble in his voice as he whispered, "in case you need a lift to the pub."

Those were the last words that he said to Simon. He spent the rest of his ten minutes sitting, staring, as though expecting him to sit up and peel the tape from his eyes, declare it all to be a joke and that he was fighting fit. But Simon didn't move and nothing else happened until a doctor, a nurse and a couple of porters came into the room.

"It's time for Simon to go to surgery now," one of them told Gene and before he knew what was happening he watched Simon's feet disappearing out of the doorway at the end of the trolley.

That was it. It was up to Simon now. Gene hoped that Simon had the strength, the drive and the will to fight and to make it back. The odds weren't in Simon's favour. But Simon's strength was. And despite all the odds Gene couldn't do anything but believe that he would make it. There was a newly painted office awaiting its owner and a desk that needed someone to christen it with paperwork.

_And besides,_ Gene thought to himself as he grimly walked from the room in silence, _it's not time for the pub yet, Simon. Not enough drinks lined up at the bar. Wait until there's enough to get you utterly sloshed. You deserve better._

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N – Thank you, thank you so much for all the reviews on this fic so far – I am so glad that you're enjoying it! My inspiration seems to have returned full-pelt and I've written 6 and a half chapters in the last 3 days, I'm halfway through the epilogue right now. I'm planning to upload one chapter a day over the weekend and then the last chapter and epilogue together on Monday, with the next story starting on Tuesday!**_


	22. Chapter 18: The Downfall of the Devil

**Chapter 18**

Kim's skin was numb as she sat at her desk, staring at paperwork, ticking boxes, signing on the dotted line. She felt a little like a robot. There were no emotions left inside of her, nothing bright or positive anyway. She felt no love, she felt no hope, she felt no happiness or joy.

The only emotions that had crossed her mind and surged through her veins were hate, distain, anger, resentment… mostly directed at one man; the man with the glasses and the trench coat who spent his days staring and glaring in her direction. For what it was worth, she spent her days glaring back. She couldn't put her finger on what had happened that night in the haulage yard, except that she had made her way back to the station with a blank mind and feeling as though a storm was brewing in her head. The dark clouds were drawing over her soul and leaving no room for sunshine. The bad energy had swirled around her for weeks and finally it had her completely in its grasp, holding her with its tentacles of venom, making her as poisonous as the bite of an asp.

She could hear the ticking of the clock as loudly as the beating of a drum in her otherwise silent office. Every tick brought her a little deeper into the dark world that Keats had inhabited for so very long and a little further from life and humanity. But she was too far gone even to know now.

How little humanity remained inside her, the cruellest twist for the woman who had given up her life to save those who needed her. Now she was merely an extension of that which she had tried to save them from. The only difference was that all her venom was pointed at one man.

She could feel her stomach growling with the griping pangs of hunger that raged inside her as lunchtime rolled around but hunger was just another human urge that she ignored. There didn't seem a lot of point in eating. She garnered no pleasure from it; food lacked taste. It was the same with sleep; it no longer refreshed her. Alcohol had little to no impact on her body. Her cropped hair was overgrown, her dark roots remained unbleached. She had lost all trace of who she was.

She got to her feet and gripped a pile of papers, marching from her office towards CID to gatecrash another briefing. Keats didn't even look surprised as she walked into the room with a dark and formidable look across her face. He stared back at her coldly. These interruptions happened at least once a day. Any time he tried to address his team, or even an individual, Kim seemed to have a sixth sense about it and arrive to debunk every word out of his mouth. He had tried everything to stop her; legally and illegally. He'd tried using his fists to deal with her more than once but Kim's fiery nature overpowered his height and strength. He'd soon learnt that was not the way.

And so he'd taken to the gas and air, to no effect. His own immunity to the stuff had become a part of Kim as well. He'd tried to drug her on more than one occasion but she rarely even drank water or coffee, and even when she did there was no way that a pill or two was going to affect her now.

He felt himself shudder at the sight of her steely stare. Something had changed inside of him and he didn't like it one little bit. He was weaker, losing his power. The energy was split now. It angered him to the Nth degree.

"So as I was saying," he continued, turning his eyes well away from her and resolving not to look back at her, "the powers that be believe it would be best if I take a little of my… unclaimed holiday leave," he spoke through gritted teeth, feeling Kim's stare upon him, "in light of recent events."

"Oh yes?" the sound of Kim's voice, once the sound that puled the strings of humanity from behind the dark exterior, set his jaw on edge, "what recent events would these be? The illegal setting up of an escaped drug dealer and a woman who just _happened_ to be in the vicinity at the time? A woman who, can we just remember for a moment, used to work here. At this very station?" Kim felt all eyes upon her but her glare never moved from the side of Keats's face, "a woman who used to be your DI, until you let your fists do the talking for you,."

"_Innocent until proven guilty!"_ Something snapped inside Keats and despite his attempts to remain unfazed by her he let out an explosion of angry words which turned his face red with fury and left him huffing and puffing like an ineffective dragon who'd lost the ability to breathe fire. A gloat spread across Kim's face.

"So even though this station is pretty much on love with your ugly arse," she continued, causing more than one or two gasps and frowns from the gathered detectives, "your behaviour and judgement have finally reached a low whereby you've been suspended?

"_I have not been suspended,"_ Keats hissed angrily, "I've got a lot of holiday owing to me and this seems like a good time to take it."

"Really?" Kim smiled.

Keats did his level best to blank her completely.

"So I'm going to take a little time to travel," he continued, adjusting his spectacles as they fell down his nose during his furious rant, "might head to France. Always wanted to visit Paris."

"What a _glorious_ idea," Kim spoke loudly and sarcastically.

"_I_ thought so," Keats sneered, "might take a camera. Brush up on my photography skills."

"Lovely suggestion, let me buy you the film. In fact, I'll buy you the bloody camera. Goodbye, and don't let the door hit you on the arse on your way out."

She stepped back to allow Keats to pass but he had no intention of going just yet.

"_As I was saying,"_ he continued loudly, doing the best he could to blank Kim completely, "I will be gone for a couple of weeks at the very least. Not that I don't trust you all to do a sterling job without me but you need someone to take the reins while I'm away.

"I'll fill your boots and then some," Kim interrupted folding her arms but Keats ignored her.

"Which is why I want to introduce you to my new DI who'll be acting head of CID while I'm away, " he beckoned to someone at the back of the room that Kim hadn't even noticed. "Please welcome Detective Inspector March."

The world froze as a terrible sinking feeling overwhelmed Kim. She swallowed as memories of cardboard cut-outs of a certain escaped drug baron filtered through her memory.

"_Oh shit,"_ she whispered.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," DI March began "let me introduce you to my work ethic..."

Mouth open in shock and dismay, Kim stared as the seemingly oblivious March began to waffle on to his now-captive audience. She set her expression hard and blank as she marched right past him and through CID, finally reaching Keats's office door.

"_That's locked,"_ he piped up smugly but to his horror the door merely swung open to allow her through. The deepest scowl of his life crossed his face as he stomped after her and slammed the door behind them while she began rooting around on his desk.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Kimberley? "he demanded as she blanked him and found what she was looking for; a file with DI March's name and photograph clipped to the front. She quickly opened up the file and flipped through the pages, settling upon the hidden section about his life in two thousand and bollocks.

"_Shame over suspension,"_ she mumbled under her breath,_ "cardboard cut-out, yadda yadda yadda… Nick Nailer suing…" _she swallowed, _"oh shit. Overdose, December two thousand and twelve."_

"Would you please put down the information on my new DI and kindly leave my office?" Keats spat.

Kim turned to Keats as she tossed the file aside.

"Do you only _have_ DIs who've got the hots for Nick Nailer or something?" she demanded.

Keats fixed his glare upon her and took a step forward that he hoped would appear menacing but Kim seemed unfazed.

"If you think you're going to get your claws deeper into my domain while I'm away then think again," he hissed, "you're no match for me. You never were. Just because I'm away from these four walls, doesn't mean that I'm any less powerful. I'm going to take on every single drop of energy that I can. I'm going to spend my time building myself right up so that when I come back I will tower head and shoulder over you."

Kim narrowed her eyes.

"_If_ you come back," she hissed.

"What makes you think I won't? Not like I'm going to fall from the top of the Eiffel tower."

"More's the pity."

Keats stood with his face an inch from Kim's.

"My place in this station is as secure as it ever was, Kimberley. Nothing is going to threaten that. Not you, not Hunt, not some _pathetic_ little court case."

"Oh yeah?" Kim spat, "then why have you been ordered to take a little holiday? Hmm?"

"Why? You jealous?" Keats asked, as for the first time his glare started to become something more malevolent. There was a smirk upon his face as he looked deep into her eyes. "Want to come too, Kimberley? Hmm?" He tried to fix her with his stare as he used his words to worm into her ear and speak deeply into her mind. "You never _did_ put me behind you, did you? I'm still _here_," he reached out slowly and stroked the side of her face with two fingers, feeling her shudder as they made contact with her skin, "I'm still here, aren't I? Right there in your head, Kimberley. I'll always be here, too. No matter what you try, or who you take to bed with you, every single night you lay staring at the ceiling you'll be thinking of me."

Kim stared right back and blinked once. That single blink cast aside any trace of a hold that Keats had left over her and with fury she reached out behind her and grasped the first object that came to hand; a stapler. She pulled the bottom down and slammed the top part to his face, depositing a staple a short way into his cheek. It was deep enough to make him scream and enough to make him back away long enough for Kim to rush to the door

"Any hold you had over me disappeared a _long_ time ago, _James_," she hissed spitefully, staring him right in the eye, "the tables have turned and you need to start fearing me because that's the only way you're going to stay alive, you mark my words."

Somewhere deep inside her mind the tiniest voice piped up telling her that she was wrong, that she had become everything she hated, that this wasn't her and that Kim Stringer had lost herself to the corrosion of Fenchurch West. But there was so little of her left inside that the buzz of the darkness droned it out with ease.

As she marched from the office and walked at pace through CID with a dark and dangerous look on her face, Keats was left to stare after her. He shook. He hated himself for it. For the first time in a very many years he felt genuine fear. The woman leaving the department in a blaze of glory was not the weak willed girl who bowed to his desires all those years ago.

Whoever she was now, he feared he had finally met his match.


	23. Chapter 19: The Smiles in the Sunshine

**Chapter 19**

She watched in silence as he flicked over the pages in the newspaper one by one by one. Every day she held her breath a little as he checked and then every day he said exactly the same thing.

"Nothing doing, Vicky."

"Still nothing?"

She had finally started to relax a little once again. It was going to take a while after what they had been through just a couple of weeks before but she was starting to watch the shadows less and her heart wasn't racing whenever the phone rang or room service knocked on the door. She slipped off her pristine white dressing gown and sank into the sun lounger beside Nailer, adjusting her new blue bikini to make sure that her tan lines were as small as possible. She reached out one hand and laid her fingers against the warm skin of Nailer's arm. "Be careful you don't burn," she commented, the sun high in the sky.

"Yeah, yeah, good excuse to go for a swim in a bit," Nailer commented as he began going backwards through the paper. Now that he'd checked it for news he could read it confidently knowing that there was no mention of either the failed set up or any further murders.

For what it was worth, Nailer felt fairly safe that nothing was going to happen for a while. He suspected that Keats's set-up has scared away the real perpetrator and that it would be some time before they decided to carry on where their work left off. Never the less, it seemed pretty likely that they would at some point. Nailer would be on alert for the foreseeable future but at least he wasn't scared of picking up the papers any more.

It was strange how little coverage there had been of the set up and failed raid. He presumed that it had been such a disaster that the station had been trying to keep it quiet. Neither he nor Victoria could make much sense out of what happened that day. The brief glimpses they'd caught on their way out of the yard of what seemed to be some officers arresting other officers were bewildering to say the least.

As he flipped over another page he turned to her by his side and took off his shades.

"Vicky?"

Victoria froze mid-application of sunscreen. She turned to him and smiled, but seemed a little nervous when she saw a surprisingly serious expression on his face.

"What is it? She asked, fully expecting the paper to have revealed some kind of grim news after all.

"What you did," he began, "coming with me. Sticking by me. Letting me drive you through a ruddy wall," he noticed she gave a little laugh at the memory, "you went above and beyond, Vicks. You know that don't you?"

Victoria smiled distantly as she stared at Nailer. There wasn't a day that went by in which she didn't think about how strange their relationship was. Nor was there a day that went by in which she didn't feel grateful for it.

"You took me away from a world that was killing me and showed me a new life," she told him, "my days used to be filled with fear and misery and now they're filled with fun and margaritas. And you." She clasped his hand, her smile widening. "I get the feeling you're always going to think… going to wonder…" she sighed and closed her eyes. This had been playing on her mind for some time. "Nick… I'm not here because I feel like I owe you. I'm not with you just because you brought me here and gave me a life that I love. I'm with you because of _you_. You might have spent your life on the wrong side of the law…" she sighed and straightened herself up a little, "but you're definitely right for me."

Nailer's expression wavered. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted to bring up but it was a fear he'd always had. He looked at Victoria with her film-star good looks, her quick wits and her sparkling personality and then he looked in the mirror and saw a kind of scruffy, average guy whose hairline might have just been starting to recede while his gut settled into a slight spare tyre. He had a file as thick as the Encyclopaedia Britannica back at the station and his past career had brought her into danger. And yet somehow…

Somehow it just worked.

Nailer slipped his fingers through Victoria's, smiling against the bright sunshine. The glare of the light was so strong that he could see little more than her silhouette but even that looked beautiful.

"Do you ever think we might be wasting our money on two rooms in this place?" he asked.

"Don't tell me you're out of cash already?" Victoria asked, "those windsurfing lessons couldn't have been that expensive?"

Nailer chuckled and leaned back.

"Just seems a bit pointless, that's all," he said, "splashing out for two rooms when you're never out of mine."

"I hope that's your way of asking me to move in with you and not telling me to get lost?" Victoria asked, trying not to smile.

"Take it whichever way you want, Vicks," Nailer grinned, "but your toothbrush still seems to be permanently in my bathroom so it looks for all the world like you're planning on staying."

Victoria gave a sideways smile.

"Might be," she said.

Nailer relaxed a little at her acceptance of his suggestion.

"I reckon we're stuck with each other now, Vicky," he said.

Victoria nodded. The warm breeze carried the smell of the salty ocean and helped her to feel calm and at ease.

"I think you might be right," she said.

Nailer folded up the newspaper and tossed it aside; the headline – _Blast Coma Victim Awakens –_ just out of view. He reached out to cup her face and pulled it toward him for a kiss to seal the deal. As unlikely as their relationship might have been it was only growing stronger. Love can strike in the most unexpected of places. For Nick Nailer, that happened to be across the line.

~xXx~

Alex kept her hand on Gene's shoulder all the way down the corridor. She could barely keep up with his pace and had to break into a run several times along the way so that they didn't lose contact. Gene didn't even realise he was going at such a pace. He couldn't hold back, he just had to keep on marching by, so focused on the room he was heading to and the words he'd heard on the telephone.

"_It's about Simon,"_ the doctor had said, setting Gene's insides spinning. He had assumed the very worst so when the very best news came forth he hadn't expected it in the slightest. He wasn't sure how he got from standing by his desk to lying in a horizontal position across the floor. He wasn't sure that his team had bought his excuse that he was examining the new carpets a little more closely. When Alex had expressed her concern and wondered if the abundance of paint fumes were to blame he simply said three words;

"_He woke up."_

Gene could swear they'd stretched the corridor, just so he had further to walk. He finally arrived in the doorway of the room where he found Robin already beside Simon's bed, vaguely hopping around from foot to foot. He looked toward the door in a kind of over-excited stupor, as though he'd had one double espresso to many.

"_He's awake!"_ he cried, "Simon's _awake!"_

"Is he really?" Gene rolled his eyes, "thought we were just going on a fun holiday to the intensive care unit." He walked into the room and slowly his expression seemed to change. He peered through the maze of machines and saw him there in the bed; _Simon,_ eyes open, the vaguest trace of a smile on his pale, drawn face. It was a sight that Gene had given up all hope of ever seeing. He tried to stay as calm and neutral as possible, not wanting to risk a chink of emotion showing as he sat down heavily in the plastic chair beside the bed and gave Simon a stern look. "You took yer time."

While Alex smiled at the typical Gene response Robin looked on in horror.

"Gene, he's been in a _coma!"_ he cried, "his _head_ was crushed!"

"Not for the first time either," Gene couldn't help pointing out, "still, at least a ceiling falling on yer head is a bit more acceptable than a computer."

Simon tried to lick his dry lips and in a thin and raspy voice he whispered,

"It was a server."

"So you've still got yer marbles?" Gene asked.

"Some of them," Simon said quietly.

Robin felt tense and emotional as he looked at Simon. The fact that Simon was lucid and talking was something quite fantastic. He remembered how difficult things had been after Simon's server accident. It had taken him weeks to be able to walk and talk again. The fact that he hadn't suffered more damage from the bleed in his brain had most definitely set him in good stead to recover.

"How you feeling?" Gene asked somewhat gruffly.

"Like I could do with buying a new head on the black market," Simon croaked.

"Yeah, you've got a bit of a crater there," Gene said tactfully as Simon looked at him in horror.

"Oh _no,"_ he groaned.

"Ignore him, Si," Robin glared at Gene, "he's just got three and a half months of wind-ups to catch up on."

Simon frowned.

"Oh goody," he mumbled, "so glad I came back for that."

Alex's ears pricked up.

"Back?" she whispered. She noticed Simon looked a little wary. "Where… have you been?"

Simon closed his eyes.

"Nowhere," he whispered.

"Simon?" Robin began, "you can tell us you know."

"No I can't," Simon said quickly.

"Can't be any worse than me taking a magical mystery tour through yer two thousand and bollocks," said Gene.

"Believe me, it was," Simon mumbled before he could stop himself.

"So you _have_ been _somewhere?"_ Robin asked.

"Did you think you were home?" Alex asked.

"Definitely not," Simon looked shaken.

"Was it that bad? Robin bit his lip.

"I don't want to talk about it," Simon mumbled, "nor do I ever want to watch Red Dwarf again."

Gene scowled.

"You've been in a ruddy sci-fi coma!" he accused.

"Don't be silly," Simon mumbled uncomfortably.

"Oh god, he's been wearing an H on his head for the last four months!" Gene cried.

"Shut up," Simon mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm confused," Alex frowned.

"Believe me, that's better than knowing where my head's been," Simon said awkwardly "can we not talk about this now?"

"Shall we talk about yer glorious hospital gown instead?" Gene suggested.

"Shall we talk about the colour of your walls, Gene?" Robin suggested, earning him a very stern glare.

"Or we could talk about me new filing cabinet," Gene threatened.

"Children, _please!"_ Alex interrupted, "I don't think this is the time."

Gene huffed a little.

"I s'pose you're right," he mumbled, "not enough filing cabinets in this place to properly settle things…" he looked at Alex and Robin. "Give me a moment would you? Need to brief Shoebury on the latest."

"I'm not sure he's up to hearing about work…" Robin began but Alex shook her head.

"Come on, Robin. I'll but you a cake in the canteen."

Robin stuck out his tongue and clutched his stomach. He'd been baking cakes for three months and couldn't stand the thought of any more.

"Make it a sandwich and you've got a deal," he said.

"That's fine," Alex smiled and nodded towards the door. Just before Robin followed he felt something brushing his hand and looked down to see Simon's fingers twitching against his skin.

"Rob?"

Robin looked down at him.

"What is it, Simon?" he asked.

Simon closed his eyes, already tiring from the effort of talking, but he had something important to say. A small but peaceful sile crossed his lips.

"Thank you for talking to me," he said quietly.

Robin looked a little confused.

"It's… no problem," he said.

"No, while I was… _out,"_ Simon said uncomfortably. He opened his eyes and looked at him again. "I'm sorry too, Rob." He paused. "Friends?"

Robin nodded, an emotional smile across his lips.

"_The best,"_ he said quietly. He squeezed Simon's fingers for a moment then laid them down on the cool white sheet and followed Alex to the door, leaving Gene alone with the man he still hated to admit shared half of his DNA.

Gene stared at Simon; his bound head, pasty skin and electrode-covered body. It shook him up to see him looking so frail. He turned his eyes away as he spoke.

"Thought that was it for you, Simon."

Simon gave a vague laugh.

"You should have known you're not that lucky," he said but Gene shook his head.

"Don't even say that, Shoebury," he said firmly. He swallowed and rocked a little on the chair. "Do you… remember what happened?" he looked back at him. "Election night? The roof?" Simon nodded. "Sorry, son."

Simon blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"Let you there while the ceiling tried to make friends," Gene mumbled.

Simon shook his head as much as his injuries allowed.

"Not your fault," he said quietly, "You didn't have a lot of choice. My fault for storming in there."

"Can't be arsed placing blame, Simon," Gene told him, "just get yer arse out of this bed and back in me station, alright?"

Simon stifled a yawn.

"Can I rest first?" he asked quietly.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On whether you promise not to go gallivanting across the universe with an H on yer head this time."

Simon groaned uncomfortably.

"_I don't want to talk about it!"_ he protested which amused Gene to see. He got to his feet and nodded to Simon.

"You'll be alright," he said decisively.

Simon nodded back. Somehow he felt stronger than he had in years.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I will."

As Gene said goodbye for now and made his way to join Alex and Robin for stale and tasteless canteen sandwiches he felt truly settled and contented for the first time since Keats quite literally shook the foundations of his world. They'd been to hell, but they'd found their way back again. And whatever happened from there on in they were all the stronger for it.

_**The End**_

_**A/N: And so ends the last proper chapter, but tomorrow I'm uploading the last therapy session and the epilogue. This fic has been an absolute rollercoaster but I have really loved writing it, and to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, huge hugs and fishy biscuits! x**_


	24. The Final Session

**A/N: I'm uploading the final two chapters together – this one and the epilogue**

**~xXx~**

**The Final Session**

The Alex Drake who sat opposite the psychologist on Saturday 30th August 1997 couldn't have been more different from the one who'd been sitting in the same seat almost 4 months earlier. Smiling, aware, happy to make eye contact, eyes decorated with a pretty shade of blue, lips a gentle pink. Her clothes no longer swamped her and her hands no longer fidgeted nervously.

"I'm sorry we're late," she said a little apologetically, "we were buying paint and Gene had a disagreement with a tin of puce."

"You and Gene arrived together?" the psychologist asked.

Alex nodded.

"It's… it's slow going," she said quietly, "we're not rushing anything. We _can't_… we don't want to set each other back, but," her smile was growing, "it's good. It's really good to have him back."

"Has Gene moved back in with you, Alex?"

Alex nodded.

"Fresh start," she said quietly, "we both acted in ways that… well," she sighed, "it wasn't us. It was as though that night managed to replace us with people we didn't recognise." She breathed in deeply. Despite the progress she had made there were still some things she found hard to say. "We let him change us. We shouldn't have done that. But now we're both beginning to fight back, and we're doing it together."

"That is really good news," the woman gave a genuine smile.

"Gene's been very patient with me," Alex said quietly, "I'm not quite ready… to move things forward yet. But he understands why. He's not pushing me. And I'll be ready one day. There was a time… not long ago… I didn't think that I ever would again." She looked down as her expression started to fall momentarily. "There's a court case. October. I'm testifying."

The psychologist looked at her with some concern.

"I see," she said quietly, "how are you feeling about that?"

"I think you know how I'm feeling," Alex said quietly, "and I won't pretend the thought is anything less than terrifying." She drew her strength together to look the psychologist in the eye. "But I won't crumble. He's taken too much from me already. From all of us. It's time for _him_ to lose something." She swallowed. "His title. His power. His freedom." She gave a determined nod. "He's been living a charmed life from the moment he arrived. It's time for him to wake up from his dream world," her face grew dark and determined, "and enter the worst nightmare of his life."

~xXx~

"You are less verbal today than you were at your _first_ session."

Gene just sat back, slightly smirking and nodding.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, you seem happier," the psychologist commented.

"And?"

"And I am aware you've moved back home."

"And?"

"And your relationship is getting back on track."

"And?"

The psychologist was growing irritated by now.

"And so I assumed that you would be more open to talking now that you are in a more positive frame of mind."

"Nope," Gene tried not to smirk.

"Then perhaps we should wrap up this session so that I can speak to someone who might actually want to see me instead of winding me up," she raised an eyebrow, but Gene's smug look faded a little.

"Not yet, headcase," he said.

The psychologist attempted not to sigh.

"In that case," she said, "is there anything that you did want to tell me?"

Gene hesitated. Then he nodded slowly. He didn't smile but there was a look of hope and serenity about his face.

"My son woke up," he said simply.

~xXx~

"It's not quite how things were, but it's getting better," Jake leaned back, his expression brighter than the psychologist had seen it before. He smiled distantly and stared up at the ceiling. "Things are getting back on track. We're more like who we were. Back down the club. Drinking and dancing like nothing ever happened." He laughed gently. "Marci's dancing is a little stiff right now… everyone thought she was doing the robot…"

The psychologist had to smile, despite trying to keep a professional appearance. She cleared her throat.

"How are you relating to your colleagues now?" she asked him.

Jake breathed in slowly as he considered his reply.

"I don't feel like the outsider any more," he said seriously, "I… I think I felt that was because _I_ was the one separating myself from everyone else. I'm getting on better with everyone now. And I don't know what the hell was going through my head a couple of months ago… casting doubt on…. Well, _everything_. I don't know why I thought that DCI was being let off the hook. He's been removed from duty, so I've heard. And DCI Drake and Robin are pressing charges." He smiled a little as he said Robin's name. It wasn't _chief inspector Thomas_ now. It wasn't '_sir'_. It was _Robin._

"I'm glad you feel so much more settled, Jake," she told him, "with a new job it just takes a little time sometimes. I'm glad you found your feet in the end."

Jake nodded. He smiled to himself.

"Yeah." He said, "me too."

His first months at Fenchurch East hadn't been the easiest – between spending his early days meeting Gene's filing cabinet, embarrassing himself around Robin and almost being blown to high heaven by Keats and his collection of exploding surprises it had been somewhat disastrous. But now he had found his feet. He had a job he loved, good friends and perhaps even someone special in his life. Jake had never felt quite so content before.

~xXx~

"I don't really know what to say to you today," Marci gave a half-shrug as she struggled to fill her session. She looked at the clock and only five minutes had passed. "It's just, I'm feeling pretty content. And I don't want to waste your time."

"You're not wasting my time," the psychologist assured her, "this is your wrap-up session. It's good that you are feeling content. And if there's little to say then at least I might be able to catch up on some paperwork."

"Are you related to Jake or something?" Marci joked. She smiled as she looked around the room. "No seriously, I'm grateful for all you've done for us. I think we would all be in a big pile full of doom and gloom if it hadn't been for these sessions." Her expression fell a little. "I do still think of him. _Eddie_." She noticed that the woman nodded and noted something on her paper, "every day I wonder what we'd have been doing if he was still here, or I'll go to the club and almost get one in for him by mistake. I miss him. And I will always regret the fact that it took us so long to get to know each other. I'll always wonder what could have been." Her expression became stronger. "But I have learnt that I can't let my own life go to waste. Eddie saved me. I would have been dead now if it wasn't for him. Having another brush with doom reminded me of that fact. I don't want to waste my life now. I have to make the most of it and live it to the full because otherwise what's the point?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. She could still picture his face. Eddie was someone she was never going to forget and she wouldn't _want_ to, either. But she had her own life to live.

She had grieved for him. And she would continue to do so, but every day the sadness faded just a little and she focused more on the good times instead.

She would always raise a glass to Eddie, every single time she bought a round or joined her friends for a night at the club. And in that way Eddie would always live on.

~xXx~

"There's someone I really like," Shaz looked down shyly as she smiled to herself, "I didn't think I was ever going to feel this way again about someone. But she's just so bright and happy… we have so much in common. We're the same age, we work together, we're both bisexual, and she's lost someone too."

The psychologist raised an eyebrow as the description began to sound increasingly familiar.

"Oh yes?"

Shaz nodded.

"We've been friends from the day we met," she continued, "sometimes I think she might like me too." She seemed to trail away, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "it scares me, Miss."

The psychologist frowned.

"What does, Sharon?" she asked, "broaching the subject with her?"

Shaz shook her head.

"Moving on," she whispered.

The woman nodded.

"I see."

"It's been more than a year but I still miss her," Shaz spoke quietly, unsure where her thoughts were going to lead, "and sometimes I think I'm over it but then something makes me think of her and it puts me right back."

"You are allowed to miss someone whilst moving on with your own life," the psychologist told her gently.

"I don't feel like I ever really said goodbye."

"Were you able to go to her funeral?"

Shaz sighed.

"I did all the things you're supposed to when someone dies, Miss. I went to her funeral. I gave the _eulogy_. I went to her grave. But I could never really say goodbye and I don't know why that is. But it feels like…" she closed her eyes, "it sounds stupid."

"You know you won't be judged if there's something you want to talk about, Sharon."

Shaz closed her eyes.

"I feel like she's still… _there_. _Somewhere_." She shook her head, "that sounds stupid, I know. But I keep feeling like I'm going to see her again, even though I know I can't." she laughed as she realised how stupid that seemed, "See? I told you."

The woman wasn't sure what to say to that. Even for her that was a strange one.

"There are many ways to say goodbye, Sharon," she began, "perhaps a new relationship is what you need to really leave her in the past."

Shaz wasn't even sure she wanted to leave Kim in the past.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Trust your feelings. If you're not ready then don't hurry it. It will happen in good time. But if you feel ready to begin a new relationship then look forward positively and give it all that you have. Either way, I wish you the very best of luck and happiness."

Shaz gave her a nervous smile.

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

She nodded slowly. She had a lot of thinking to do.

~xXx~

"I can't believe how well Simon's doing," Robin was in awe of his progress, "he was back on his feet so fast. They let him leave hospital two days ago. He's staying with me while he gets better." He sighed. "Well, I had a free couch since Gene's moved back home."

"I see," the woman checked her notes, recalling that Robin has spoken about Simon before. "And you previously were in a relationship with Simon, weren't you?" Robin nodded, "has that been awkward at all?"

Robin shook his head without hesitation.

"I'd thought it would be," he said honestly, "but it feels like we're…" he hesitated, "finally moving on." He closed his eyes as he thought about it. Since Simon had woken things had been different between them. The underlying tension seemed to have faded away. Before, Robin was always on alert, knowing that Simon might turn on him at any moment, saying something spiteful about his relationship with Kim or trying to start their relationship again. Perhaps the fact that they had fought just before the bomb blast had given them both a wake-up call.

There was still a way to go but it felt very much like they were starting to shift their bond into a deep friendship. Although the love was no longer there they still had a deep connection and they were both thankful for that.

"And you must be relieved that his ordeal is over?"

"Pretty much," Robin wouldn't have said it was _over_ though, "he's still in pain and it's going to take him a long time to get his strength back." He nodded slowly. "But he's doing well. In fact, everything is going well. I've got my office back with a while new coat of paint, everyone's getting on better than ever, Keats is going to be hauled in front of a judge and facing charges that I will _personally_ make sure stick like superglue," he paused, "and I've met someone. Someone I really like."

The woman gave him a smile.

"It sounds as though everything has come together," she said.

"Yeah," Robin said but his expression was downcast. He breathed in slowly and looked away. "So why do I feel so fucking miserable?"

~xXx~

"There's still one thing that worries me deeply," Alex had spent most of her session talking about the positives but there was something on her mind and she knew that she couldn't keep it in, "it's not like there's anything you can do… I don't even know why I'm telling you…"

"Because I'm here to listen," the woman reminded her.

Alex looked down and nodded.

"I feel like I have lost somebody," she whispered.

The woman frowned.

"Are we talking about someone you lost in the explosions, or –"

"No, no, not like that," Alex finally looked her in the eye. "I've… mentioned her before, she whispered awkwardly, "her name is Kim."

The psychologist nodded. It felt like _everyone_ had an issue with someone called Kim.

"Of course."

Alex ran her finger along the crease of her trousers as she whispered,

"She gave herself over to…" she paused, "to a life that is no good for her. And through doing that she's lost the person she used to be."

"Are you talking about… drugs?" The psychologist felt confused.

"No," Alex said quietly, "call it… being in with the wrong crowd." She felt her heart starting to beat a little harder. "I won't…. pretend that my concerns are merely friendly," she swallowed, "I said before that I've had… other feelings for her."

"And you are… worried about your sexuality?" The woman wasn't sure where Alex was going with this.

"No."

"I'm sorry, I thought you meant –"

"I don't care about labels," Alex said crossly, "all I care about is that someone I love is destroying herself!" she surprised herself with the strength of her words. Until that moment even she hadn't realised how strongly she cared or how worried she was. She swallowed hard as she thought of Kim trapped in Fenchurch West, her heart cold and her life replaced by darkness. "She gave up her life for us," she whispered, "and now she's truly lost her own."

The psychologist for once had no idea what to say.

"Alex," she said gently, "I don't know Kim. And I don't know the situation. But from what I've heard she has a lot of people looking out for her and a lot of love on her side. There is nothing stronger than the influence of people who care. And that will be her salvation. Look at how far you have come, all supporting one another."

Alex nodded very slowly. The woman was right, again.

Love, support and friendship had carried them through.

Whether it was too late for Kim, however, remained to be seen.


	25. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"You've missed a bit."

As Gene turned to Alex with a suitably annoyed glare she couldn't hold back her giggles.

"There's enough of this paint left to tip a pot over that pretty bonce of yours, you know," he warned her.

"I'm sorry, Gene, sorry, sorry," Alex backed away as he came towards her, paintbrush held high, "It's just, I've been sitting on that comment for the last few weeks."

"You'll be sitting on something else in a minute," Gene mumbled.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Alex asked cheekily which made Gene turn around quickly. That was the closest to a sexual comment that Alex had made and was most definitely progress. He tried to flip his paint brush in the air and catch it again but succeeded only in sending it bounding behind the bed. With an embarrassed mumble he scooted down to pick it up and got back to work.

"_Bollocks,"_ he mumbled.

Alex tried not to smile.

"You've missed another bit," she told him and found herself with a purple line painted across her nose. "You cheeky _bastard!"_

"At least it's not puce," he said as he turned back to the walls.

"Still missed a bit."

"_One more false accusation and I'll go back to kipping on Batman's couch,"_ Gene threatened, "I get free cake over there an' all."

"Yeah, I can see them all around your middle," Alex teased.

"What's put you in such a bloody awkward, over-excited mood?" Gene demanded, looking at her with a mix of confusion and amusement. She smiled and put down her roller.

"Oh, I don't know," she began walking closer with a smile, "Last session… you back home… brand new month about to begin. New start."

"New start for me to park me arse on Batman's sofa," Gene threatened as Alex wiped a dollop of paint on his cheek.

"You can't, he's got Simon on there now," Alex smirked.

"Shoebury will shift his arse if I tell him to."

"He's just come out of _hospital!"_

"I seem to remember you going back to work five minutes after you woke from a coma," Gene pointed out.

"Only because you slapped me awake and dragged me to the Quattro!"

"A minor detail."

Alex smiled wistfully as she picked up a rag and began to clean up her nose and Gene's cheek.

"Did you ever think back then that fifteen years on we'd be standing here, painting our bedroom together?" she wondered out loud.

"No, I thought I'd have servants to do it for me by now," Gene told her, "why haven't I won the sodding lottery yet?"

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Well if I'd known I was going to end up going back in time I'd have memorised the numbers when the damned thing first started," she told him.

Gene stepped back and admired the walls.

"So, Bolly," he bean, "in yer expert opinion how many _bits_ have I actually missed?"

"None," Alex smiled, "job complete."

They say down together on the dustsheet-covered bed and stared at the newly painted walls. The colour was warm and inviting, the new tone different and exciting.

It really felt like a new beginning for them both, as well as for the station. The majority of building work had completed by now and while there was still a lot of painting and decorating to be done things were returning to normal. Simon's health had been coming on in leaps and bounds, and his triumphant release from hospital had seen him welcomed to Robin's by six cakes which he was fairly sure he was never going to eat his way through. Robin was glad of the company, especially as Simon was someone he was so close to. He had someone to really talk to, rather than just someone to sit on the couch, eating his cakes, insulting him, farting and snoring.

The Kim situation was still one that caused them a great deal of anxiety. Since the last message that she'd left on Gene's answerphone no one had heard from her or seen her and although both Robin and Alex had made repeated attempts to contact her she managed to evade them every time. The more obvious it became that Kim had been completely swallowed up by the dark side, the more Alex realised how much Kim meant to her. Every time she thought about the sacrifice that Kim had made she felt physically ill. Kim wasn't the first person to take drastic action to get to Gene's world but she was the only one who had done it for a selfless reason and now she'd been lost to the West forever.

She tried to push those thoughts from her mind as she leaned against Gene's shoulder. This was a night to focus on the good, the positives – _progress_. The last four months had been a long and difficult rollercoaster and one that it seemed at times they could never recover from. But now she felt stronger than she had in a very long time and she wasn't the only one.

Gene was standing strong and tall once again with Fenchurch East securely under his rule, Jake had learned to open up and let people into his life, Marci had realised how precious every moment was and had found a new determination to live life to the full and Shaz had finally found a reason to move on from the grief that had never truly left her.

There was only one person who was still struggling. _Robin_. Alex's heart sank again as she thought about him, so lost and devastated without Kim. Her hurtful words when last he saw her had left his heart scarred and he couldn't put it behind him. He'd thought it was bad enough being apart from her when they were in different worlds. Now they were in the same one their separation was all the more obvious.

"_Bolly."_

"Hmm?" Alex lifted her head to look at Gene, pulled from her thoughts by his voice.

"I think we need a bottle of yer namesake to celebrate the astoundingly brilliant repainting of the walls that the Gene Genie has been responsible for today," Gene told her.

Alex stared at Gene, the face that she'd looked upon every day for the last sixteen… _seventeen_ years and couldn't imagine how she'd survived without him there for the weeks they'd spent apart. It felt like a very surreal nightmare now. It didn't seem real any more.

She reached forward and slipped her paint-covered hand around his, the warmth of the connection giving her the sense of safety and security that she'd lost that night back in May. There was a feeling running through her body, a buzz, a tingling that settled around her lower quarters and made her pulse rise with anticipation. It had been a long time since she'd felt that urge, a _really_ long time. Her face felt hot as she slowly flicked her tongue around her lips and drew in a deep breath for courage.

"Actually," she said with quiet determination, "I can think of a better way to celebrate."

He looked her in the eye. The glint that stared back couldn't have been more unexpected. There had been a time that Gene didn't think he would ever see it again.

Lying her down amongst the dust sheets, Gene did all that he could to help push the bad memories far from Alex's mind and show her that she was safe with him, that she would _always_ be safe with him, and that nothing – not even Keats at his most darkly powerful – could come between them.

Individually, together… a strong team had overcome its toughest challenge yet. They were truly unbeatable. Even the Devil couldn't break them apart. Fenchurch East had won the battle.

Now it was time to win the war.

**The End**

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: So this was the 13**__**th**__** main fic in this series – How utterly weird is that? There were many times that I didn't think I was going to get this one finished lately things have been tough, I've been extremely depressed and my health had been really crappy. But with a burst of inspiration in the last week, here it is, and despite struggling to get the inspiration to write I actually really like how this turned out – a story getting more positive as it goes along is not normal for me! :D**_

_**I totally appreciate all of your support through the slog of this fic, thank you for reading and so much gratitude for those who took the time to review; Jessie and Charlotte especially, you've both kept me excited about writing and I love chatting to you both! Thank you for helping to keep me going lately. With special thanks to MrsJackHarkness, Purple Kerrycat, Sillivan, 80s Babe, Kellie, sash queen of the jungle and everyone who I've spoken to by PM and on Tumblr for your reviews and encouragement, as well as PEOPLE WHO WON'T BE READING IT UNTIL THIS WEEK BUT WHO HAVE BEEN SENDING ME BLOODY EVAN AND BEARDS AND GEOFF AND HORRIBLE STUFF TO GIVE ME NIGHTMARES!**_

_**The next fic begins tomorrow and is going to be a short one, set on the day of the death of Princess Diana. I know many of you reading are too young to remember but it's a day forever engrained into my memory. Don't be offended by Gene's array of tasteless jokes… Also, would anyone be interested if I did a Christmas fic? I'm not sure whether to or not this year.**_

_**Finally, as we approach Christmas, here is your friendly reminder that Gene will be shoving an apple up the turkey's arse 15 days from now :P**_


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